Gloria Victis
by IHoldWithThoseWhoFavorFire.HM
Summary: L/Mello. BB/Mello. torture, rape, drug use, etc...bad stuff all around. B wants everything that L has so one night he takes it.
1. Dead Man Walking

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN DEATH NOTE!!!

A/N:

Ok. So, I know I'm supposed to be working on the sequel to 'Want It. Take It. Love It. Keep It.' right now, and I promise that I am but this got stuck in my head and I just couldn't get it out.

If you're looking for fluffy, hit the back button NOW because you're shit outta luck. This is MUCH DARKER than my other fics so, you've been warned. It deals with some pretty heavy stuff, drugs, rape, torture, etc... It's about BB. What do you expect? Anything about that freak is bound to be fucked up.

Anyway, here it is. Read. Enjoy. Review.

* * *

The first thing that Mello noticed when he woke was the lack of light, the absence of any sound. In his own room, there was always the noise of a clicking keyboard, the faint sounds of his favorite detective sipping his tea or munching on sweets. There was always the light from a computer monitor; a silhouette of L crouched in his chair. Now, there was nothing, just darkness and silence.

Only once this information was processed, did he become aware of the dull throbbing in his forehead, the crushing feeling against his temples of a fading migraine. The child was used to waking in this way, as he slept very little these days. It was close to exams, he remembered in a panic. Had he blacked out again? He should have taken the time out from studying to find a late snack. But of course, this couldn't be the case, he rationalized. If he had passed out from exhaustion, or malnourishment, he'd be in the infirmary, or waking to the concerned face of his lover, or possibly Matt, or Roger, or Watari. There was no one sitting at his bedside, no cool cloth on his forehead. Mello was alone, left only with a headache and the terrifying feeling that something was definitely amiss.

Mello tried to sit up, only then realizing that he could barely feel his limbs. It was as if all of his nerves existed only in his throbbing head, and his very dry, sore throat. What had happened to him? His genius mind quickly cycled through the possibilities. He was obviously weak, dehydrated, and not in his bed. It felt like there was a fog surrounding him, and the exhaustion he felt was more severe than the usual. Then there were the other physical signs, far more terrifying, but definitely more important. The blond tried to lift his arm, succeeding in only wiggling a few of his fingers. He felt boneless, weak. Drugged?

Never once in the young genius' life had he abused drugs, prescription or otherwise, but he knew what the effects should feel like. This was the after effect of being sedated. Tiredness? Check. Confusion? Definitely. Blurry vision? Well, he couldn't exactly tell in this room, but his eyes felt raw and he desperately wanted to just close them and go back to blissful, dreamless sleep. But something was most certainly wrong; some part of him just _knew_ that he was in danger, that he had to figure out where he was and what was going on, for the sake of his very survival. After all, he was in line to be the next L. Surely that put him in a fair amount of danger everyday. Especially considering just how close they'd become in the previous months.

Mello tried again to lift his arm, to reach for his rosary. There would be comfort there, guidance that he so desperately needed. Yet, he could still barely move the limb, let alone bring his hand up to his chest where the symbol of his faith always hung. It was during this battle, that he felt the something cool and soft slip around his throat. It was a hand, almost icy to the touch, that gently stroked over his throat, long thin fingers that wrapped around it. He gasped for breath, not being able to pull the hand away as the grip tightened, constricting airflow. "Oh, god," he managed to croak out, before he heard laughter bubbling up from just over his head.

"Mihael Keehl," a voice rasped, deep and low. The monotone was eerily familiar, but held an edge of something to it that confirmed for the blond immediately that it was not the voice it so desperately attempted to imitate. There was the faint English accent, the careful pronunciation of a name that no one was supposed to utter, not even the detective that the blond so desperately wished the voice belonged to. "Tell me, does this little trinket keep the demons at bay? Will it save Mihael's life?" The other hand tugged on his rosary, while the first tightened its grip.

"P-pl..." Mello managed to choke out only the beginning of the word. There might only be seconds left before he blacked out, yet he couldn't push against the threat, couldn't use any of the skills his mentor had taught him in defense lessons. It would all be over in seconds, but there was nothing he could do other than hold back frightened tears as he struggled in vain for his very life. It wasn't fair. He knew how to win a fair fight, had been taught how to cripple an attacker in a similar circumstance. But what happened to the endless training sessions when he could barely raise even a finger in defense? When he couldn't even _beg_?

"My apologies, what is it that Mihael is trying to say? Is he addressing myself, or someone else? God? L perhaps?" The hand around his throat relaxed slowly, and Mello took in several deep breaths. He was shaking all over, his skin felt cold and slimy where the other man had touched him. Then the hand that had been around his throat traveled down, the touch softer, as it slipped under the hem of his t-shirt. "Mello would like to see L again, I imagine."

The blond had been willing himself to calm, to figure out a way to delay whatever plans had been made for him long enough to regain strength, to escape. He knew that he could not rationalize with his captor, whose mind was long since gone. Now the panic returned, his mind offering up all kinds of horrible scenarios when the man suggested that he could see L again. He silently prayed that it couldn't be, that L was still safe at Wammy's, that he wasn't somewhere in this darkened, freezing room.

There was light now, and Mello could see that they were alone. The room was bare, except for a single wooden chair and the bed he lay in. Both pieces of furniture were set in the middle of the room. There was one window, carefully boarded up several feet away. There wasn't even the slightest crack between the boards to see outside, to determine if it was even day or night. Nevertheless, the tall, stick thin figure that stood before him crossed the room, pulling shut heavy black drapes over the window.

"B, this is kidnapping. This is wrong. It isn't a game, ok? You could be sent to jail, you could be-" L's 'twin' crossed the room, his stride a little quicker, his back just a touch straighter than the man he attempted to emulate. There were so many quirks it was surely hard to keep up, and though the man tried, he could never be a perfect match. Not to the great L.

"Mello, I have no idea what you're going on about. Are you feeling well?" To his credit, the words were nearly perfect, the tone almost an exact match. Genetics had helped fuel the insane obsession with the detective, and a great mind lent assistance to almost perfectly mocking speech pattern and mannerisms. Now, his back curved more, his shoulders slumped. His eyes visibly widened as they stared straight into Mello's. The only difference in the eyes was that where L's irises were actually a pale blue around the normally huge pupils, B's were a deep, dark color, nearly black actually. Mello always swore they were actually tinged with red, but since one rarely saw the maniac in the daytime hours, everyone else said that it was either a trick of lighting, or that his presence merely cast a sense of unease. Of course a person's eyes couldn't be tinged blood red, now could they?

"You're not L. You look like him, you talk like him, but you'll never be him." Herein lay Mello's greatest problem in life; he often said whatever he felt, even if the words were likely to give him trouble later on. A captive person might try to keep up with the delusion, in an effort to calm their tormentor, but Mello could not allow it.

B reached out with a cold, spider-like hand to touch the blonde's forehead, attempting to appear soothing, concerned. He smiled, and here was the final proof that he could never completely imitate the object of his obsession. As convincing a copy as he was, the smile was all wrong. L's whole face lit up when he was truly amused, his blue eyes sparkling, the expression lending a child-like, innocent quality to features. B's smile was disturbingly sinister, one corner of his mouth quirking, his eyes flat and black. When he smiled, he truly looked most like a grinning corpse. "You aren't well, I can see it. But don't worry, I'll have you back to health in no time."

"You fucking drugged me!" The blond shouted, his throat still screaming at him. He needed a glass of water, he needed to get out of this room. It was dark, musty. It smelled like death.

"You're feverish." A kiss was laid against his forehead, the blond trying to turn his head away. Even those lips were icy to the touch. The other children at Wammy's were always comparing Beyond to a vampire, himself included. Now he wondered if maybe this were really true, if the clone were about to suck him dry right here. "I have warned Mello on numerous occasions that he ought to take better care of his body, especially during times of such stress. He's always putting his studies before his own health. It is no wonder that he is suffering from delusions. Clearly, dehydration and lack of nourishment are at fault."

The blond shivered, remembering a conversation recently with his mentor. A conversation they'd had in private, in L's own bedroom. The detective had been helping him study by over-viewing a current case with him, and had noticed the blond rubbing his temples, popping aspirin throughout the evening. L had mentioned that he had not noticed the boy at either breakfast, nor lunch, that they had begun researching while the rest of the teen's peers were heading to dinner. The detective concluded that Mello was accidentally starving his body of nutrition in favor of cramming in a few extra hours of work. Watari had been called to bring in a rather elaborate meal.

"I know the difference between malnourishment, and the effects of a drugging. What was it? I can still feel it. How long have I been out? Where the fuck am I?" B only shook his head, attempting a look of sympathy, failing miserably. He shuffled out of the room, Mello noticing that there was no light coming from wherever the man was headed. While his peer was gone, he tried again to sit up. It was getting easier, he could now almost make it, though he was still quite shaky. It would be a long time before he could stand again, so he was going to have to keep the man talking, and hope that he would metabolize the drugs in his system faster than his captor anticipated. There was little chance of that, however. B was exceptionally well versed in biological studies. He was old enough where he was actually past the education being offered at Wammy's, but Mello had seen the old scores, and L had told him that if B were more social (read: stable) that he would have been asked to instruct classes on such subjects.

Mello's captor returned with a glass of water, and the blond eyed it suspiciously. He was dying of thirst, and knew that if it weren't laced, the liquid would help in his recovery. The question was, was it worth the chance? The brunette had already put a hand behind his head, lifting him up enough to sip from the cup against his lips. Blue eyes glared defiantly into the black holes of the older man's, as the edge of the glass was pushed against his mouth. "Please, drink. Mello will feel much better soon."

When the liquid was drained, quite quickly after Mello detected no obvious strange taste, the older man disappeared again. The blond had shut his eyes tight, silently praying that maybe the bastard would just drop dead wherever he was. Mello would recover sooner or later, and L might be there to save him even before that. Unfortunately, B did return after several minutes. Even in the dim light, the blond could see the needle in his hands. So the water had been fine, but oh god. What was in that? He watched Beyond tap the syringe, depressing the plunger to rid the dose inside of air bubbles as he crossed the room.

Mello's wrist was gripped tightly, his arm yanked up. The brunette's expression looked somewhere between fascinated and hungry as he eyed the veins at the inner elbow. The blond stared in horror as the tip of the needle slid into his flesh. He could still barely move, and though he knew screaming would do him no good, he shrieked and cried. Someone had to be coming for him. L had to be coming for him.

"Mello needs his rest. This will help. All will seem much clearer in the morning. Please relax." B's tongue darted out while he pulled the syringe away, looking at the bit of blood at the inside of the blonde's elbow, and that that had filled the syringe. He seemed to be losing focus, slipping out of character, though he still clung to the L persona. He was stroking back Mello's hair, offering other soothing words. The blond already felt his eyelids growing heavy, felt the mattress underneath him disappearing. Just before he slipped out of consciousness, he was trying to push away the thought that the warm, wet thing against the skin of his arm was almost definitely Beyond licking at his wound.

* * *

Their relationship was kept secret for much longer than either dared to expect. It started out like any other young romance, with the awkward flirting, the accidental touches, neither one daring to make an obvious move. It started out slow, a look across the room, holding hands during late study nights. They would both argue it for years to come, who finally took the leap. It could be said it was L who really initiated it, by inviting the blond to work on his assignments in the detective's bedroom, only to ignore studying in favor of sharing a meal, having a lengthy conversation that went from academia, to philosophy, to poetry.

Then again, it was Mello who stole the first kiss, while the two read lines from a Shakespearean play to each other. When Romeo and Juliet were meant to kiss, the ever-dramatic blond had leaned into L, perfectly playing the part of the infatuated teenager. He'd closed his eyes; wet his lips, his hand going to the back of the detective's neck to pull him in. Of course, later he would say that he was merely getting into character, that it was L who took the scripts and threw them across the room, pulling Mello into his lap, deepening that kiss until they were both breathless and blushing.

From there, they regularly snuck up into L's bedroom, sending text messages to each other during the day, setting dates for the meetings. Mello had been admittedly slipping in some of his studies, falling just a hair below Near's scores, so the detective had explained to his instructors that he would personally tutor the boy himself. Mello had always teased about the obvious perversion of these acts, how the teacher-student relationship was highly inappropriate. However, his scores had risen considerably in the areas that L was supposedly tutoring him, so that he was in fact ahead of his rival. L had returned the teasing by suggesting that it must be completely psychological on his young lover's part, since they rarely worked when they met.

They managed to keep their secret for almost a year, until they were finally discovered. It was the obvious conclusion to their affair, since they had indeed become somewhat reckless. It wasn't as if they were overtly affectionate in public, or that they were not careful in their plans, but even geniuses make mistakes. A lingering look here, a touch there, eventually the accidental term of endearment spoken in the presence of the wrong person. Of course it had been a father figure that had caught them in the compromising position, in the act of making love on a night when both had neglected to check that the door had been locked. However, there had been many slips before.

Mello could recall one such instance, though at the time neither man had noticed that there was another body present. They'd been in the library, hiding among scattered stacks of books, looking for some new poetry for the hopeless romantic detective to bring to bed. "Darling," L had whispered, "what do you think of this one?" A book was held between forefinger and thumb, dangled in the blonde's face. The teen had giggled, planting a kiss on his lover's cheek.

"Ah, was that what you were quoting last night?" The detective only smirked in reply, blue eyes twinkling suggestively. The detective had a habit of quoting the great romances while they made love, perfectly reciting the verses as his lips and tongue teased every inch of Mello's skin, as his hands drifted to remove articles of clothing. Mello had admitted to himself that if his friends were to see the way he behaved with the detective, he would never hear the end of the teasing, but he couldn't bring himself to care. L's words were as skilled at bringing him immense pleasure as his hands and mouth were. It was young love in the worst way.

When the older man had pulled the teen to him, his own arms wrapping around the thin waist as Mello's went around his neck, the two heard a loud thud. Both jumped back from the embrace in time to see Beyond sitting at a nearby table. He was hunched over a book, and the two were close enough to catch the writing on the cover. BB's attention was focused on a textbook of human anatomy. The two cringed, knowing their peer's obsession with the inner workings of the human body all too well.

The only time he had ever participated in the tutoring of other children had been during a class on dissection, where, admittedly, he'd perfectly instructed his students at how to cut into the specimens. It had also been his last chance at being allowed anywhere near most of the children, since he'd frightened the majority nearly to death. L had sauntered in to watch the class, and suddenly been engaged in a loud verbal argument.

The problem was that B felt the lesson was not nearly interesting enough without a human body to work with. They'd been given the usual, a frog to dissect, but Beyond could not be satisfied with this. He'd raged that neither Wammy nor Roger Ruvie had taken the initiative to call a local morgue for something more interesting. When he had offered to take the liberty, he had been denied. Somehow he felt that this was all the great L's fault, and that he was solely to blame for his potential successor's boredom.

BB had had to be physically escorted from the room, then shut in his own bedroom for the remainder of the day. When L had tried to reason with him, he had been jumped by his double, sent flying onto the ground on his back. B's hands had been around his throat, his eyes narrowed into little black slits as his grip tightened and his lips curved into a vicious grin. Mello had been the one to rush to the front of the room, to retrieve the scalpel that had fallen from the maniac's hand to the floor. It had been dangerously within reach of the original second in line. The blond suspected, that if given the chance, his mentor would have become the object of study for the day. That was not the way the teen wanted to discover L's body. Several of the girls in the room had been in tears, one thankfully rushing out to catch several instructors in the hall, screaming that B was going to kill L. It took three men to pull the enraged teacher from his position over L.

In the library, Mello and L quietly watched Beyond mimic the detective, legs tucked up in the chair, lips slightly parted, mumbling to himself. From his position, it would have been easy to both see and hear what the two had been doing. The couple rushed from the room, both going their separate ways, the mood ruined. Whether or not he had actually caught them, they were never sure. Neither spoke of the incident again, both always more than a little nervous around the strange man.

When he thought back on it, Mello could actually remember several occasions when they had been 'caught' by Beyond. There had been the time when they had been walking through the hall during dinnertime one evening, Mello nuzzling into L's shoulder, when out of the corner of his eye he spotted B several feet behind, shuffling along quietly. Looking the copy, Mello felt a shiver travel up his spine from where L's hand rested on his lower back. He'd looked into L's eyes just to assure himself that they were indeed the usual light blue, and not the pair of flat black that always instilled such fear in the teen.

The blond suddenly felt claustrophobic, pushing L away, quickening his pace to walk in front of the detective, traveling backwards to watch both men. His detective had assumed that the boy was playing a game, and quickened his own pace to catch up, catching the teen to lift him up, carrying him down the hall. Mello had whispered that then was not the time that they were not alone. When the brunette turned to see what the trouble was, he only shrugged, tightening his hold on the younger boy. Sure, Beyond was creepy, probably insane even, but was no threat to their secret. He had never showed an interest in fraternizing with anyone that he might be able to alert to the affair, and also had nothing to gain from doing so. Though it disturbed L, he maintained that the fear they felt at having his double watch them was irrational. He was only curious, but would do nothing more than stare for a moment before continuing on his way.

There had been another instance, and this time, L had finally spoken up. The couple had been making love that evening, and when they had finished, they lay curled in each other's arms, falling asleep. They'd heard the creak of a floorboard just outside, so the brunette had volunteered to investigate, saying that he might as well head downstairs for a late night snack as well. Sex burned a lot of calories after all. When the detective stepped out, his clone had been standing right there, palm flat against the door, his expression far away.

B had finally stepped over the line in L's opinion, and was told that under no circumstances should he be loitering outside L's bedroom, especially at this hour. This was the detective's personal, private space. In fact, most of the floor belonged to him, and B's own room was nowhere near. The potential successor had only been allowed to continue living there if he behaved himself, contributed when and if possible to the cause, and made no trouble. It was mostly out of their own fears that neither Quillish nor Roger had thrown the young man out yet, and L agreed with them to a point. However, if B planned on stalking him, then he would have absolutely no reservations about kicking him to the curb. Beyond had only nodded, not even offering an apology as he shuffled away.

"It is time to wake up, beautiful." The voice invaded the hazy dream, startling Mello awake quicker than usual. His type of insomnia was the kind that he forced upon himself, so that when the blond finally did fall asleep, he was out until something shocked him awake. The interruption was usually an impatient detective lately, or else his own alarm clock on weekdays. Most of the time, L had to shake him, to raise his usually quiet voice if he hoped for the teen to wake. Now, it seemed like even deep in the most pleasant of dreams, this voice could bring him crashing back into reality.

Mello was thankful that at least the light had remained on, though the sight before him had him wondering which was better. He'd been dreaming of L, of course, of being wrapped safely in his arms, of missing a day of classes to lay with the man. Inches from his nose, B smiled at him. He leaned over from his seat in the wooden chair, kissed the blonde's forehead. "Don't touch me."

"I will not take Mihael's attitude personally. He has had little sleep, and seems to still have a slight fever. Warm to the touch, in fact. So very warm." B reached for his hand, only to have it batted away. "I am only concerned for Mihael's well-being. Whether he likes it or not, he will let me care for him." The brunette took the teen's wrist, nearly crushing the bones in his thin wrist with those cold digits. "If I am met with much more resistance, I will be forced to bring out the restraints. Mihael has yet to have his medication. A dose is not due yet for several hours, but there are other ways to calm him."

That's right, Mello remembered now. He'd been drugged unconscious. The teen could remember at least two times having been given whatever poison that syringe held. He dared to look down to his arm, where there were now quite a few puncture marks. "How long have I been here?" The older man shook a scolding finger in his direction, making little sounds of disapproval. His hair was smoothed back, tucked behind his ears. B kissed the side of his neck, breathing in the scent of his skin. His tongue flicked out, licking a long stroke up towards his ear. When the blond turned his head away, the older man bit down on his earlobe.

"Mello is normally so affectionate. I do not understand why I am being treated this way. Have I said or done something to upset him?" Without waiting for an answer, the brunette stood, exiting the room without another word. While he was gone, Mello realized that he could finally manage to sit up, though the ensuing head rush made him wish that it hadn't been attempted. However, he remained sitting, feeling a little stronger, a little less vulnerable, even when he saw that the majority of his clothing was missing.

"I have warned Mello against exerting himself. I should have known that he would be too stubborn to cooperate." The voice came from the other room. Of course Beyond knew that he had moved, the springs in the bed that had been poking the blond in the back for however long he lay there creaked noisily with every slight movement. "I'm afraid I will have to resort to restraints. Just remember, love, that it is your own fault."

"No!" Mello shrieked. He threw himself over the side of the bed, landing in a heap on the floor. B was shuffling back into the room, carrying several sets of handcuffs. The blond crawled away from the bed. He felt heavy; his legs shook as he brought himself to his knees. He pushed up with all the strength he had in him, managing to stand for only a few seconds before falling back to the floor. "Leave me alone B. Take me back. You don't want to do this. This is wrong. This is very very wrong."

The brunette threw the restraints onto the chair next to the bed, coming around the stand above Mello, peering down at him with a look that was part pity, part aggravation, and at least a little hunger. The blond was reminded of those old movies, where the monster just keeps slowly making it's way towards you, shuffling along, not racing, because it knows that eventually you'll tire, stop running, fall, and it never can. B seemed to be fueled by that same force, never tired, never concerned with the blonde's screaming or begging or insults. He placed one arm underneath Mello's knees, the other under his shoulders, effortlessly lifting him and dropping him back onto the bed, even though he appeared to weigh even less than the teen. BB could very well have been thinner than L.

"That is a dangerous thing to do, my dear, unless you wish to see the threat through to the end." Beyond had sighed, his eyelids falling shut, when Mello made a grab for the older man's hand, biting into the flesh between his thumb and forefinger. It was a self-defense tactic that L had taught him. There were many sensitive places that could be even minorly injured to cause enough pain to distract an attacker. Of course, if his captor was twisted enough to enjoy a sensation like that, it left the blond with very few options.

"Let me go! Bastard! Take me back!" Both of his wrists were captured with one hand, jerked above his head, pressed into the headboard while B reached for a pair of cuffs. The metal dug into first one wrist, the chain going around a post in the bed before the other side was hooked around the other wrist. He kicked at the man beside him, twisting his aching body, finally landing a kick straight to B's stomach, effectively knocking the wind out of him. The older man doubled over, gasping and coughing. When he recovered, he seemed even more determined, laughing while he restrained Mello's ankles.

"I so love how playful Mello is being, but I am still concerned for his health. We can play later when he is feeling better." Beyond turned and left the room, humming to himself. From beyond the shut door, Mello could hear the ring tone of his cell, the tune interrupted as his kidnapper picked it up. "Hello, my friend. Hmm? Yes, safe, sound and intact. No, you may not. Goodnight."

The blond screamed until his voice left him, hoping the caller might hear him. He wished he had an idea where he was, could offer some clue to his rescuer. There was still no evidence to where he might be being held, but he continued to shriek, more out of fear than any real hope at this point. Beyond returned long enough to shut out the light, closing the door again before he left.

* * *

Despite how mischievous L's second in line was, he rarely ever missed a class if it could be helped. Barring serious illnesses, or the occasional decision to stay in bed with his detective lover, Mello had never so much as been late to a lesson. It caused immediate concern, then, when he was still missing after lunchtime. Roger was contacted first of course, Mello's instructor inquiring if the boy had gone out of town that day, or if he may be ill. They should have been notified, but oversights can happen. When Roger claimed to know nothing of it, Wammy was then contacted. His colleague was already suspecting that the boy was with the detective, but did not wish to be the person to interrupt whatever might be transpiring in that bedroom. He wanted as little as possible to do with the romance that he still found gravely inappropriate. If Mello was skipping classes to do whatever it was that he did with L, then Quillish ought to be the one to retrieve him. He'd already seen it first hand, so was therefore the better candidate for the job.

L had not answered the insistent knocking on his bedroom door, having been fast asleep. It had been almost four days consecutively since he'd slept, and was exhausted to the point where he finally just had to give in. The door had been left unlocked, if there was an emergency then whoever needed him could just walk in. Quillish was overly cautious of doing this lately, not wanting to see into any more private moments than he had to. However, this was a dire emergency, so after five minutes of waiting for the lazy detective to answer, the old man finally opened the door a crack, peering into the darkened room.

The caretaker took a moment to watch his surrogate son sleeping soundly, looking very much like a small child. He'd never tell the boy, but often when he was very over-tired, the detective could be caught curled up into the fetal position with a thumb in his mouth. This warmed the old man's heart more than any of the other endearing quirks the young man possessed. He hated to wake the child, but finally had to. There was a missing blond to be found, and then properly scolded. If anyone knew where he could be, it was L.

After Watari had shaken the detective awake, it was mere seconds before he was fully alert, at having heard why his sleep had been interrupted. It wasn't really that he had been concerned for the boy already, since the blond had been hard at work studying, insisting that for once he wished to be left alone. Admittedly, L had been distracting him the last time the teen had brought in his work. L had desperately missed Mello for the last thirty-six hours (and 32 minutes, and 29 seconds, 30 seconds, 31...). For the first few hours, he felt the usual longing for physical closeness, then as time went by, he began to miss the sound of his voice, felt the familiar tightness in his chest as the hours ticked by. By the end of the first full twenty-four hours he was beginning to feel the pangs of jealously that went along with knowing that Mello still saw it more important to beat Near in the rankings than spend time with him. It was silly of course, and just a bit embarrassing, knowing that he was so jealous of innocent little Near, of all people.

"Yes, I have checked his room, L." Watari sighed. "_Personally_. He is not anywhere in the building." L had been told in no uncertain terms to not interrupt, had had the door even shut in his face when he tried to enter. When the blond was in one of these moods there was no stopping him until he accomplished what he set out to do. He would stay locked away until he had every fact memorized, until whatever he meant to write out or construct was up to his standards. This of course meant that he might not be seen for days.

"Perhaps Mello has stepped out for chocolate? Is my motorbike in the garage?" Watari shook his head no. He had thought to check that as well. Even though Mello was only fifteen, technically not allowed to be driving, he would often escape the grounds on L's motorcycle. It had been bought on a whim, and had only been used a handful of times by the detective, who had personally taught the teen to drive it. Roger had been furious over this, knowing the mischievous boy well enough to not trust him in the least. L, however, was confident in the young man's abilities, and did not worry for his safety when operating the vehicle. Even if he were to be discovered as underage, there was no chance of repercussions regarding the law. L would see to any trouble. He was the law after all.

"L, there is one more fact that greatly concerns me in this matter. Beyond has been missing as well." Though BB was mostly a shadow to the majority of the Wammy House inhabitants, there were still a handful of people that kept track of his whereabouts. As unstable as he knew the young man was, Watari quietly kept tabs on him. He made sure to keep at least the younger children away from the library or the halls he might be traveling through in the evening hours. He even waited near the door to B's bedroom when he knew he would be retiring. He had been especially cautious of the strange boy when L had confided that he and Mello thought B might be following them, that he had been spotted outside L's room at night several times.

"Perhaps he has finally decided to leave us. We will all be better for it." L did not believe his own hypothesis for a second, though he wished he could. He was suddenly very concerned now, leaping out of bed to rifle through some papers at his desk. There was a contact list somewhere, one that had the names and cell phone numbers of nearly everyone that had passed through the house. Watari reached into his pocket, producing a small black cell phone, handing it out to L.

"I had the same thought." Watari had stood outside B's door, his heart sinking when he heard the phone ring without an answer for several minutes. Though the old man had a key to every door in the house, his did not work at B's. The bastard had changed the lock without his knowledge. He'd had to resort to drastic measure, managing to use a long forgotten skill to break in. Any other time, he may have shared the experience with his surrogate son, who was also an expert at breaking and entering. The two may have been able to share a laugh. Now was not the time. "If we do not find Mello soon, I fear he may be in some kind of danger. It is the last scenario I wish to believe, but the evidence is not in our favor."

"I do not appreciate what you're suggesting. I know, more than even you think you might, just how far gone BB is mentally, but kidnapping?" The last word L had to force from his own lips. It couldn't be possible. Not his Mello. But wasn't Beyond capable of such a thing? Hadn't he done nearly as bad with little to no provocation? What would be his reason behind it? Mello usually left L's copy alone avoided him even. It couldn't be revenge for some conceived wrongdoing. What else might be the reason? The detective felt himself wishing that it had been someone else, anyone else, that had gone missing at the same time as Wammy's loose canon. He would be able to keep a clear head then, be able to list the possible reasons and outcomes, come up with a plan of action. He tried to forget that it was his Mello that might be in danger, that his love could have been taken away from him. If B had done something, he was not only already a former resident; he was a dead man walking.


	2. Kill Me Quick

A/N:

To those of you lovely readers waiting for the sequel to my other story, I promise it wont be long and thank you for your patience. It's actually nearly finished but I needed to take a break and clear my head for a moment. Hopefully this is a good enough distraction!

To angstkitten and Faye Violette, thank you for reviewing!!!

* * *

CHAPTER 2

KILL ME QUICK

Mello had been awake for several hours, remaining as quiet as he could while trying to come up with a plan of escape. The first thing he noticed when he woke was that whatever he was currently being drugged with seemed to be coming in smaller doses, or that his body was becoming used to it. His mind was clearer, his eyes more focused, though his limbs still felt weak and ached terribly. Not that that mattered, since he was still restrained. The skin at his wrists and ankles was rubbed raw where he had struggled against them. His arms hurt from being in the awkward position above his head for so long.

The light had been turned back on some time while he slept. There were now a few more items in the area; a table, for one, another lamp beside the bed, even a television. There was also a cross hanging on the wall opposite him. The blond did not wish to think about the significance of the last, though it did cause him to think of L yet again. No doubt there was yet another similarity between him and Mello's captor. B had discussed his belief in sciences over 'myth' during the one and only class he had taught the children. L was also opposed to organized religion of any kind; it was not a topic the couple discussed. Unlike some other members of his faith, Mello did not let this fact come between them. It was a god given right to choose whatever spiritual path was most suitable for the individual, he understood this.

Mello attempted to feign unconsciousness yet again as he heard footsteps coming his way. He couldn't bear to see the face of the imposter, especially not in the presence of the holy item that decorated the room. "Mello's breathing pattern is incongruent to that of one sleeping. Good evening my love."

Though it was still impossible to measure time exactly, it was a slight comfort to at least know that it was evening. Though, of course it was. Beyond rarely appeared to anyone during the daytime hours after all. Whenever he was in the room, the blond knew that it was at least after sundown. "How long have I been here?"

The kidnapper chewed on his thumb, black eyes turning towards the cross on the wall. It was like watching the devil in the house of god, though the demon ought to be shrinking away from the symbol, and instead appeared completely fascinated with it. He stared at the cross for several minutes before finally speaking. "It is Sunday. That much should be obvious. Since Mello was not able to attend his holy services, I thought that this might be a welcome substitute." B made his way to the bed, falling to his knees near the head of it. Their faces were only inches apart, black eyes curiously peering into blue. "Are you pleased, my love?"

"Pleased with you mocking my religion?" Beyond laughed. "This is no church. This is hell." The kidnapper's eyes narrowed, his face fell. As quickly as he had appeared, he was gone again.

"Forgive me, Mello. I have never understood your beliefs, though I wish to." BB was slouched over the bed again, his arms behind his back. "The part that has always perplexed me the most, though alternately intrigued me, is the sacrifice that your Christ made. The suffering that he experiences at the end of tale, the selfless acts." B brought one arm out from behind his back, throwing the covers off the bed, exposing Mello's thin, nearly nude form. The blond struggled against his restraints, struggled against the fearful tears yet again. He would not show weakness, not now, not even when he suspected what might be in his captor's other hand. "It must have been horrifically painful." Beyond's other hand emerged, a scalpel glinting in the dim light. Mello kept his eyes focused on the cross hanging on the wall. It had been made to show the five wounds of Christ, bright red paint on the man's feet, palms, and lower abdomen. "It is said that he suffered for all the sinners of the past, present, and future. Would anyone go through such a thing, for even one soul? Would you yourself endure such a thing for someone you loved?"

Where was he going with this? Again Mello wondered about the safety of his loved ones back at home. He had not been able to come up with a reason for being the sole prisoner in this twisted game. Was B hiding one of his friends somewhere? Was he hurting Watari, or Matt? Near? _L_? He would do anything to save someone else from this torture, not just because of his religious duty, or even because it would be the right thing to do, but because he couldn't bear another's suffering when his own might save it.

"Yes."

"Such conviction in that one word. I admire it. But, it is only in theory that you respond in the affirmative." Mello's eyes squeezed shut, he silently prayed for the safety of his loved ones, then himself. B kissed his way down the blonde's exposed thigh, his calf, the blade in his hand hovering mere centimeters above his flesh. He couldn't help but cry out when he felt the first cut, in the top of one of his feet. He felt the blood trickle out, dripping down to stain the sheets underneath him. "There is still time to retract it. Would you still do it? Still suffer to save the life of another?"

It was only a game, Mello reminded himself. He would already be dead otherwise. Even so, his answer would not change. If he was going to die today, or soon after, if it meant saving another, he would do it. "Yes." The drugs still in his system did little to dull the pain, the next cut definitely felt a little deeper. The blond opened his eyes in time to see the blood well up. He began to mumble his prayers out loud, watching in horror as Beyond bent to lick at first one, then the other.

"I believe you." Black eyes tilted up again, seeming to stare straight through Mello. There was a look of absolute disgust on B's face, like the very idea of self-sacrifice might make him physically ill. Mello could feel his own stomach jerking, could taste the bile coming up his throat, when the expression on his captor's face changed again. He was looking at the teen the same way L eyed a bowl of sugared berries, like he knew just how sweet they were, like he wanted to devour them as quickly as possible. Mello could see a drop of his own blood at the corner of B's lip, and when the older man noticed him looking, his tongue darted out to lick it away.

Beyond's hand wrapped around Mello's wrist. The blond had closed his hand into a fist, anticipating what was to come next. He struggled to keep his fingers closed, even as B's thumb dug into a pressure point, making the tips of those fingers quickly go numb. They were pried apart, one by one, the blond jerking and thrashing on the bed. B slashed into his palm, once, twice, a third time, the lines criss-crossing, the wound opening further than the last two. "Oh, god. Please, no." He had to be strong. Had to. There was a chance that this was a test, that if he failed then someone else might have to be in his place. But the blade was sharp, the blood warm and thick, pooling up in his hand, dripping down over his wrist only to be caught in the brunette's mouth again.

"I am disappointed in Mello. Does he think his god begged for life? Or did he bravely defy his own pain so that others might live? It is only mind over matter." The other hand was cut. Mello couldn't look anymore. He squeezed his eyes shut, slowed his breathing, silently prayed again. B's free hand went to rest on the teen's stomach. "Mello. Please stay with me. Pay attention. I want to understand Mello's beliefs. I know very little of this subject. Think of me as a student. The first four wounds of Christ were nails into the feet and hands, correct?" The blond nodded. "What was the last?" When the teen gave no response, B slapped him, the impact hard enough that his neck, stiff from lying in the same position for so long, made several loud popping sounds. Mello feared for a few terrifying seconds that the force might have broken something, but he was still able to turn his head, could feel his extremities. "Again, what was the last?"

"He was stabbed with a spear, to make certain that he had died." Mello opened his eyes in time to see his captor stand, arm held high above his head, scalpel catching the light, wicked sharp and sparkling. It stayed there for what felt like an eternity, before sailing down to plunge into his abdomen. B released his tool, looking delighted as it stood up, stuck in the blonde's flesh, just above his hipbone. He bent to kiss the area around the blade, to run his fingers from Mello's chest down, ending just under the hip, stroking back up again. The teen took a deep breath, tensing in anticipation of the pain to come. The endorphins were kicking in; he felt light headed, faintly sick. He held his breath, managed to only gasp as B's hand wrapped around the handle of the blade, before yanking it back out. Mello's skin protested, made a sickening wet sound when the scalpel was pulled out.

Blood gushed from the wound in Mello's stomach, the deepest of the five pouring out in waves. B's hands drifted through it, wiping it away, exposing the gaping mouth of the incision before it welled up again. The kidnapper ran his hands over his plain white shirt, giggling at the smeared fingerprints. He licked his hands clean, then plunged them into the mess again.

"You've been very brave, my love. Mello's capacity for kindness is as overwhelming as his beauty. He is a worthy partner for myself. I just knew it." There was no doubt in it now; the blond could the redness in B's irises spreading, until they were a deep crimson. Tears welled up in Mello's eyes, falling over his cheeks. B wiped at them with the hem of his sleeve, smearing blood on the teen's lips. Mello couldn't stop himself from crying, not because it hurt, or because he was scared, but because now he knew why he was here. There was never any intent to kill him. He would be trapped here, with this imposter of his lover, until he was no longer of interest. Since the only thing that ever seemed to keep Beyond's attention was pain and suffering, and there were so many ways to keep a victim alive, to continue with the torture, this could be a very long time. He prayed for death, feeling guilty that he would rather leave this earth now than even see L one last time. He just wanted it to end.

Just as he prayed that god would help L forgive him for these thoughts, forgive him for leaving him when he had long ago promised that he never would, a familiar ring tone could be heard from outside the room. It had happened before, B had left to answer a call, then come back and refused to tell the teen who it had been, though there were very few who would be contacting him this way. It had given him hope once before, but now only made his sorrow that much worse. He didn't want anyone to be waiting for him anymore, didn't want anyone hoping that he would be returned home safely, because he couldn't bear to look anyone else in the eyes ever again. It had been his own foolishness that had gotten him caught, and now he alone had to pay the price. They would all be better off to just forget about him.

For once, Beyond was returning with the cell phone in hand. "If you must," his voice low, tense. "Though I do not believe that he wishes to speak with you." The phone was held up to Mello's ear, the blond holding back his sobs, trying to breathe as quietly as he could. "Say hello, Mello." The teen shook his head, no, he would not. All he wanted was to pass out, prayed that he be left alone, maybe that B would leave him to bleed to death.

The voice on the other end was frantic, panicking, saying his name over and over, begging for just one word to know that he was all right. Still, the boy refused to speak, was even holding his breath now. It was L. L was all right. He was right there. That was enough. Mello didn't need to speak with him, didn't want to speak with him. What could he possibly say? L would ask what had happened, then he would know that it was Mello's fault. He would be angry. Even if he weren't, he would look for him. B would not part with him now, that was obvious.

"Mello? Love? Are you there? Are you all right? What has he done to you? Please, answer me. Just say you're all right. It's me, it's L. I'm right here. You're alright, sweetheart." There were several more voices in the background. Mello had to hold back his sobs when he heard his best friend, Matt, and Watari, who was more a father than whoever had been his biological parent. B watched curiously from his perch in a chair next to the bed, gesturing for Mello to speak up, seeming more exasperated with each second that Mello only laid there, tears falling silently. Finally, his captor stood, his eyes narrowing into slits, hovering over the teen. L was still begging for any word when B laid his hand over the incision in Mello's stomach, then plunged a finger into the wound. The blond screamed, feeling his skin tear, his nerve endings screaming at the intrusion. He saw his captor stare at the knife that had been carelessly tossed to the floor, and he screamed again.

"No! Please, no." Over the phone, L was screaming, Mello, Mihael Keehl, answer. He pleaded with the boy, raged at BB, swore justice and vengeance and death if his love wasn't returned the way he had left him. If anything happened to Mello, Beyond was surely dead. There would be no judge, no trial, not even a proper execution. L would tear him limb from limb with his bare hands. He swore it, promised Mello that he would avenge whatever was transpiring. The blond didn't know whom he was asking, as he whispered 'please' again and again. Please L, save me. Please, don't come for me. Please, Beyond kill me now. Someone just stop this.

"I believe that is all the response you need. Mello does not wish to speak with anyone. He is happy here. He is safe here. He is mine now. Leave us be." Beyond laughed. "Empty threats. Good evening, my friend. Pleasant dreams." L's violent tirade was cut off mid sentence, as B clicked the phone shut. "They do not understand. No matter. We can not be separated now, so there is no need for Mello's tears." Beyond brushed back strands of hair from the blonde's forehead, kissing him. The teen turned his head away, but the brunette held his chin, kissing his lips, even when the boy bit into B's bottom lip, holding on until his teeth connected through the thick flesh. This only seemed to spur his captor on, who forced his tongue into Mello's mouth. "There is no reason to struggle. Nothing for Mello to fear in this place. He is safe."

* * *

It took over an hour to calm the detective, and in the end, he'd had to be sedated to prevent further harm to himself or his surroundings. He screamed and cried and threw things, not allowing anyone close, not even _Watari_ until every member of their infirmary staff answered the call to subdue him. Once they had him down, the doctors and nurses strapped him to his bed. No one wanted to chance a repeat performance and though it pained Watari to see his surrogate child like that, he had to agree that it was for the best. As long as Mello was missing, L would be unpredictable.

Suddenly, the old man wished he hadn't allowed him to take so many martial arts classes as a child…

When L finally woke several hours later, Watari was there, reading by his bed, looking disheveled and tired but managed to smile as his child turned his head though it quickly disappeared when the detective spoke. "Where is Mello?" he asked, his voice hoarse and drowsy from screaming and all the drugs they'd been forced to pump into his system.

"Still missing, my child but please try to remain calm this time."

L tried to stretch, realized he couldn't then tested his bindings and gave Watari a dirty look like the one the old man always received when he'd neglected to put enough sugar in his young charge's tea. "Why am I being restrained?"

"You gave the doctors a difficult time after your conversation with B. They thought it best. Once you've managed to prove that you can keep your emotions under control, I'm sure you'll be released."

"They'll release me _now_ if they know what's good for them…" Watari smiled and stood to loosen the restraints himself, not wishing to anger the boy any more that he already was. It was usually best to just let L have his way and he supposed he only had himself to blame for that. He was always such a sucker when it came to his child. Or any child, for that matter. That's why Roger was there. To be the disciplinarian. If Watari were in charge, there would be chaos at Wammy's house because he just couldn't bring himself to scold the adorable little orphans in his care. "I want him back, Watari. He's mine, and I want him back."

"We all want him back, L, but your irrational behavior was getting us nowhere. I have all the faith in the world that you are able to solve any case put before you, but you must remain clear-headed to do so. I already have some of the greatest minds in the institution hard at work tracking our Mello down. We have searched his room, while you were, ahem, resting, though regretfully we have found few clues there. I was waiting for you to calm, so that we could search B's room."

Watari had been about to go through the area himself, but could barely bring himself to set foot in it alone. He had first asked Near to join him, but the child had made an excuse about going through Mello's again. It was obvious that he felt the same unease as Watari had there. Matt had bravely volunteered, had begun digging through Beyond's belongings, only to run from the room, looking slightly sick. Somewhere under a pile of clothing and books, he had uncovered several mason jars full of clear liquid and well-preserved corpses of small animals. A case could already be made to have Beyond sent to prison for the remainder of his life, Watari and the redheaded teenager had unearthed what looked to be parts of a human being in one of those jars.

L was picking at a band-aid on the inside of his elbow, where a shot had been administered to subdue him, while he listened to his caretaker. The detective had always had a habit of biting his fingernails, and so was having great difficulty in removing the little bandage. He pouted, frustrated almost to tears at the small defeat, until Watari reached out, pulling the band-aid off in one swift movement. The detective held out his arm, and the old man kissed the small puncture there.

Something about the gesture seemed to comfort them both. Even though L was a grown man, he still needed Wammy to be there when he was wounded, still needed to be hugged and soothed. When Mello and L had first been discovered, Watari had felt a little remorse at seeing his child take a lover, had begun to feel a little useless. It was during these times when he was reminded just how much like a son the detective was to him.

"He'll be alright, won't he?"

Even as child-like as the detective could be, as young as he may act for his age, Watari had not seen this look on the brunette's face in some time. A lesser version of it, possibly, when he accidentally knocked a plate full of cake off of a table, or spilled his tea down the front of his shirt, but never like this. He stared straight into Watari's eyes, silently begging him to make it all ok with a word, a touch, and the old man would have given his life right then to have Mello back, if only to wipe that look off of his child's face. The young man had seen hundreds, no thousands of murders, had looked upon the worst of the world and faced it down, defeated it.

This time the horror was too close to home, to real to detach himself from. L's feelings would get in the way of thinking clearly, could very well harm their chances of finding him, but how could he tell him to separate himself from it all, how could he expect the boy to keep a clear head, when his first and only love might be killed before they found him. It wasn't just Mello's life that was in danger though, Watari realized, if anything happened to the teen, he had no doubt in his mind that L would take his own life. "Of course we will find him, L. We will bring him home."

* * *

Mello thrashed as B's hands slid under the waistband of his boxers, fighting and screaming, ignoring the agony in his side. "No, B! No! You can't do this!" B slapped him but it didn't do any good. He hit him again and again but Mello wouldn't relent. He refused to give up, still struggled to get away. When Beyond finally let him go and stormed out of the room, Mello relaxed and sighed but his relief was short lived because his captor returned only moments later with something in his hand. To the untrained eye, it looked sort of like one of the joysticks Matt used when he played his old Atari but Mello knew better.

B grabbed his chin in a bruising grip and forced him to meet his blood red eyes. "Do you know what this is?" he asked. Mello remained silent but the look in his eyes answered for him. "It's a detonator. Would Mello like to guess where the bomb is?"

"Please, B, don't …"

"Its under the foundation at Wammy's House. I took the liberty of installing it before we left. Now, Mello has two choices. He can either be a good boy and behave, or-"

"No! I'll be good! I swear I will, just please. Don't do that. I'll do whatever you want but, please leave them alone…"

B smiled, patted Mello on the head. "Good boy. Now please stand. Mello is very beautiful. I would like to see all of him." When Mello didn't move, B again became violent. He grabbed the blonde's wrist and jerked him off the bed, shoved him toward the center of the room then perched himself on the edge of the mattress. He kept his hand on the detonator, made sure it was in Mello's line of sight as he waited patiently for the boy to do as he was told. After a moment and a pleading look, Mello did, removing his one and only article of clothing. He turned his head away, unable to look at the monster as those red eyes stared hungrily at his naked body. "Mello is indeed very beautiful…" B mumbled, more to himself than anything. "Come over here." As soon as Mello was close enough, Beyond grabbed both of his arms and forced him into his lap, wrapped both of the boy's arms around his own neck. "Kiss me."

Mello leaned forward and pressed his lips to B's, then pulled away a second later as if he'd been burned, his eyes shut tight against angry, ashamed tears. "Please…" he whispered but B grabbed a fistful of his hair and forced him to look into his eyes.

"Try again. And this time make me believe that you love me," he growled. Mello struggled in his arms, trying to pull away.

"I don't love you! I'll never love you, now fucking let me go!" the blond screamed. Beyond sighed and backhanded the boy, hard enough to force him off his lap and onto the floor. He calmly got to his feet, reached down and dragged Mello up by his hair and threw him against the small table on the other side of the room. Before Mello could even think to react, B was there again, bending him over the hard surface, pressed tight against him as he twisted the boy's skinny arm behind his back.

There was nothing the blond could do to defend himself. B hadn't fed him in nearly three days and the pain from his wounds left him dizzy and nauseous. When he heard the clink of a belt buckle, he bit down hard on his lip and clenched his eyes shut. He knew what was coming, and he knew it was going to hurt.

B leaned down over Mello's back, lips pressed against the boy's ear as he spoke. "Mello is mine now. The sooner he understands that, the better it will be for him. I had hoped we could make love our first time but I suppose this will have to do." He bit down on Mello's shoulder, his sharp teeth drawing blood, and the blond screamed as Beyond shoved his hard dick into his unprepared body. It was rough and Mello cried the whole time but thankfully it didn't last long before the monster came inside of him then left him bleeding on the floor without a word.

* * *

The floor was so cold, so like the monster's hands. Mello tried to pull himself up, only to fall back to the floor. He was so weak, had lost so much blood. He crawled towards the bed, stopping every few inches to catch his breath. There was a trail of blood behind him, and he hated that man for leaving the light on so he could see it. He dared to look down his own body, one hand held protectively over the wound in his stomach. His thighs were covered in blood, he could still feel the warm sticky fluid between them, could still feel Beyond's come inside of him.

The blond finally made it to the bed, pulling himself up by the wooden post, arms shaking, palms of his hands screaming in agony still. He fell onto the bed, gritting his teeth from the pain in his abdomen. He carefully rolled onto his back, but it was worse still. It felt like B had torn him in half. He remembered the first time that he had sex with L, how slow they had had to be, how the detective had kept asking if he wanted to stop. It had been excruciating, even with all the preparation and the gentleness of his lover. He couldn't have imagined it could ever hurt more than that, though he had lied to L, had tried to ignore the pain, to enjoy the moment.

It had been better the next time, even better still after that. The pain had been worth it, to be close to him. He would give anything to go back to that first time, to have L inside of him, offering soothing words and telling him how much he loved him, how grateful he was to be allowed inside of him. It would never happen again. Even if L were to find him, to save him, he could never be touched again. He was spoiled. He had promised himself, L, even god, that another would never touch him. The detective should have been the first and only.

None of that mattered now. All the love that had been built over these two and a half years had been destroyed in seconds. Mello had never once regretted losing his virginity, had pitied those who took it for granted. He knew how they felt now, the regret, the shame. He was dirty. He was used. Trash. Tainted. Rotten and filthy and untouchable. So he had been tortured, denied food and water. So he was weak, and thin and scared. He could have fought harder.

Then he was remembering pieces from earlier that night, or yesterday - had he passed out? Slept? What day was it? The only thing he had to go by was the stage of healing in his wounds. They were sore and red with the beginnings of infection but scabbed over. It could have been days…

He remembered being bent over, forcefully penetrated, then discarded like an old toy. He remembered what the monster had threatened him with. He had saved countless lives from certain death by his sacrifice. It was a small comfort.

The blond curled on his side. There were very few positions he could put himself in that didn't end up with an injury screaming at him to move. He curled up tight, knees up to his chest. Looking around the room, he could see his only article of clothing laying just out of reach on the floor. He wanted to be covered, couldn't stand to look at his own filthy flesh, but he was too weak to move again. He gathered the covers around himself, still splotchy red, and sticky from his own blood.

Footsteps again, the sound of a door creaking open, only to click shut. Mello had been in this room so long that it seemed like his whole universe was enclosed inside the tiny space. Whatever lay outside only existed to B. Wherever the monster went when icy hands weren't on Mello's naked flesh, when his blade wasn't piercing his skin, didn't matter. Wammy's didn't matter. There was only here, only now. There was only pain, only the waiting for benevolent death.

"Poor thing," Beyond spoke, voice sounding much calmer than before. The smile tried for concerned, but didn't quite make it. There was that spark of something in his eyes, that hungry look that said he was pleased with the pain that tightened the blonde's features. "It is frightfully cold in this room. I would like very much if I were to be allowed to warm Mello." Without waiting for an answer, Beyond crawled into the bed behind the boy, wrapped an arm around his thin waist under the blanket. "Ah. You are still nude. What a wonderful gift. Mello cannot possibly imagine how pleased I am that he allows me to see him this way. My beautiful cherub."

The blond cringed at the pet name. L had begun calling him angel, or cherub, along with the other terms of endearment he used. The detective had said that if he weren't of such a scientific mind, Mello might have made him believe in angels. He was so beautiful, so delicate and sweet. "Please, B, just leave me alone." The grip around Mello's waist tightened, crushing him. He was pulled closer to the older man, could feel the brunette's excitement through the rough denim of his jeans.

"How can you use that name in our bed? In our sanctuary!" It seemed that any form of the codename sent Beyond into fits of rage. Mello had watched the obsession grow over the time they spent in this room, until he was sure that BB didn't just intend to mimic the detective, but really believed that he was the other man. "How can my love be so cruel, as to compare me with another? Does he fantasize of other men when we lay in bed together? Does he imagine another inside of him? Mello's body is mine, and mine alone. I will not tolerate such an injustice."

"You're not L. You'll never be L. You're Beyond Birthday. BB. A kidnapper and a rapist. A criminal. L is going to have your head on a platter when he finds you." The blond taunted, saying the brunette's name as many times as he could in the speech, trying to jar him out of his delusion, to snap him back to reality.

The arm that had been around Mello's waist traveled up his chest, then B's hands were around his throat, fingers squeezing. The pressure grew until the blond choked, gasped, thrashed. Still Beyond squeezed, the pressure building, Mello's head throbbing. He found himself too weak to struggle after a moment, went limp under the hand on his neck. "Mello's vicious tongue is liable to get him into trouble again. I do not enjoy repeating myself. Mello would be wise not to force me to do so again. I will only warn him once more. I am never to be referred to by that name again. I am L. I am justice."

Just when the teen's vision was becoming blurry, black around the edges, when he thought the ever-tightening grip might finally crush his windpipe, he was released. He took a deep breath, then another, while trying to move away from his captor. He'd gotten one unsteady foot on the floor before he was pulled back, turned to face Beyond. The hand went to his throat again, the grip loose, just a threat. "Please, just let me go. Or kill me. I don't care. Just please, please, stop this."

"I am highly offended. How can Mello think that I would do such a thing? I want no harm to come to my love. My beautiful angel. I was only reminding Mello of his place. It is his own fault for trying to leave me. He promised, after all."

How long had the kidnapper been watching him? Beyond had admitted to it when he'd been taken, had confessed that he had had an eye on the beautiful teen for quite some time. But those words, that he'd promised not to leave, had been spoken to L in the privacy of their bedroom, many months ago. They'd had a fight. The blond had been over-tired, had been stressed over the rankings yet again. The teen had raged about Near, how the fight just seemed so pointless. He should just forget the whole thing, just leave, start somewhere new. It had only been his frayed nerves speaking for him, but something in what he'd said had caused the detective to lash out.

He would never do anything to intentionally hurt the boy, but he had grabbed his shoulders, shook him, raised his voice. If all that mattered to Mello was whether or not he was beating Near, that this place didn't hold any more significance than fucking scores, then maybe he should leave. The detective was obviously nothing more than another goal to achieve.

They had both shed tears that night. They had both opened up, confessing fears that they dared not share with anyone else. Mello had never suspected that L had been as lonely as he was, that the blond had changed his life so much. L was always so confident, seemed so satisfied in his life. What the blond had not realized was that the older man was scared to death to lose him, that his life meant nothing without his love.

Mello should have known. L was an orphan too. All he wanted was to belong to someone, to be loved and needed. It didn't matter that the whole world might be worse off without him, because he was nothing but a letter to them, but not to Mello. With Mello, he meant something. All of the blonde's past insecurities had been erased that night, and they had both promised that they would never leave. They were two parts of a whole, they would not function without each other.

Perhaps he could get through this, the teen thought. If he only thought of L, as B's hands were sliding back down over his stomach, running over his hip. Maybe he could imagine that it was L's hand that now went between his thighs, fingers sliding through the blood that had seeped from reopened wounds, staining tanned skin. If only he could imagine his blue-eyed lover pressed tightly against his back, rubbing his clothed erection against him when his finger pushed inside, making him cry out in pain.

But L wouldn't be doing this, wouldn't be forcing his legs apart with a knee, wouldn't be rolling him onto his stomach, panting in his ear. He could hear B making a pleased noise as he sucked on the finger that had been forced inside his ass. L wouldn't be shoving his dick into him again without any preparation.

"There's a good boy." B rasped into his ear. "Don't be shy, my love. It's just us. Come on, now, baby, let me hear those pretty noises. Just for me." Mello screamed as B thrust into him, deep as he could get. He gripped Mello's hips, pulling them up off the bed. "Mine," Beyond whispered, thrusting again, hard enough to push Mello's head into the headboard. He squirmed underneath the bigger man, reaching behind him to dig nails into the hands on his hips. Both wrists were caught in one of Beyond's large hands, his arms trapped between their bodies, his face pressed into the pillow.

Mello knew that the body could betray a person, but even so, when Beyond's other hand went to stroke him, when he started to become erect despite the pain and fear, the blond felt his stomach jerk. This was disgusting. He was disgusting. "Please-" Mello couldn't finish the thought aloud, couldn't beg him to stop. The sudden combined pain of his arms behind his back, B's hand squeezing his erection while violently thrusting into him, had him crying out again.

"Do you see? We're meant for each other. No one else can do this to you. No one else can make you feel like I do." It was true. No one else had ever made the teen feel so low. Not even Near could make him feel so small, so useless. He couldn't do anything to stop this. He couldn't fight, couldn't beg. All he could do was lay there, face pressed into the mattress, his screams muffled while B thrust into him, over and over, the pace quickening. Just when Mello thought it might all be over, his rapist slowed the pace again, bit down on his shoulder, stopped all together. "I was so selfish before. My love did not finish. I want to feel my beautiful angel come under me. Because of me." Beyond lay still, buried inside him, stroking him. He pleaded with his body not to let go, to understand. But he was filthy, disgusting, a useless whore that was coming from the touch of the madman. "There, baby. That's a good boy." A few more thrusts, harsher, tearing the teen from the inside out, and Beyond was coming in him again.

Mello could feel his heart thundering in his chest, threatening to explode. B stayed in him, his breathing slowing. He thought the kidnapper might have fallen asleep, until a few moments later when he pulled out, the movement causing even more pain, if it was possible. The blond was crying, sobbing, while he was forced to turn over, pulled into the older man's arms again. B stroked his hair, kissed his cheek. He was saying how much he loved the boy, how beautiful and amazing he was, and what a good fuck he was. It was ok, there was no need for tears. They were safe together. They could make love again and again, and no one could ever separate them. This never had to end.

What the older man did not know, was that it already had. There was nothing human left in Mello. He was already dead.


	3. Just Outside Of Barstow

A/N:

Anyone who can catch the reference in the title of this chapter gets a cookie.

Thank you rkoalagirl and angstkitten for reviewing!

* * *

CHAPTER 3

JUST OUTSIDE OF BARSTOW

It had been almost a week, before Mello was fed for the first time. Beyond came in, all smiles, a tray full of breakfast in his hands. The blond would have laughed at the sight, if they'd been home. He would have laughed, if he hadn't just watched the brunette dip a finger into a jar of jam, sucking on it, eyes closing like it was something richer, a delicacy, not the simple store bought sticky mess that had smeared onto the side of his mouth. "Come on, now, give us a kiss. Just a little peck, and I'll have a treat for you."

The boy squeezed his eyes shut as the older man crawled into the bed, sitting by his side, leaning down for his payment. Mello wanted to refuse, hungry and tired as he was, but something smelled so wonderful, so warm. What was the point of fighting anyway? He kissed B, letting his kidnapper stick his tongue in his mouth, responding just enough so that he wouldn't cause the man to become angry again.

Chocolate, warm melt in your mouth double chocolate pancakes, dripping with chocolate syrup. A mug of warm cocoa to go along with it. It was laid on his lap, taunting him while B slowly undid his restraints. The teen's arms were stiff, his hands numb. There were bruises and cuts on his wrists that ached and stung when he moved his hands. He was so weak, starved and dehydrated, that he could barely pick up the fork and knife. It was only a small defeat, but enough to leave stinging tears in his eyes again, when the rapist took the utensils, cutting and spearing a large bite and putting it against his lips. He swallowed it nearly whole, almost choking on it. His throat was raw from screaming, his mouth was dry. Another bite was offered, then another. The plate was quickly finished off, then he felt his stomach jerk. It wasn't used to being fed, couldn't handle something so rich.

The brunette was staring intently, waiting for the teen to become sick, like he knew he would. The boy barely managed to lean over the side of the bed before he emptied what little had been in his stomach onto the floor. His hair was held back, while he dry heaved for what felt like an eternity. The older man grabbed him from behind, pressing Mello's back to his chest. He rubbed the teen's stomach, kissed his shoulder.

"Mello should take better care of himself. Have we not already discussed this? Of course Mello is ill." The blond sat very still, just listening to the psychopath scold him like L so often did. "I admit it might be partially my fault. I was so busy wanting to make love to my beautiful angel that I did not notice the signs. Poor dear. It will be all right. There is more where that came from. Please, drink, love, you'll feel much better." The teen held the mug in his hands, not caring that it was hot enough to burn his skin, to burn his tongue when he took the first gulp. He willed his stomach to settle, then finished the rest of the drink. "Good boy. Now, what do we say?"

"Thank you." The boy was pulled into B's lap, trapped in his arms. It felt almost safe, secure. At least he wasn't alone, chained to the bed. At least the man was feeding him, and hadn't yelled when he'd gotten sick on the floor. No. What was he thinking? This wasn't safe. This was just another form of torture. Though this time it was psychological. He would beat him, rage at him, then he would hold him and pet him and tell him he loved him.

"That's better. Now, how are you feeling love? You look better." He was turned around in the older man's lap, his chin held up, face inches from the other. "Yes, I can see the color returning to your cheeks even now. Such wonderful skin, such a pretty golden, sunny color. Mello is the light to my dark. I can almost taste the sun on his lips." To prove this, B licked the teen's bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth with his teeth, gently sucking on it before releasing it again. He was so like L, even in the way he kissed. The blond knew that the two were not related, that it was mere accident that they were so similar. But it was eerie the way Beyond could move and speak exactly like their mentor, how he could kiss and it felt like kissing the detective. If he just closed his eyes, he could make this room go away, he could be lying in L's bed, cuddled on his lap, held in his arms exactly like this. They'd been this way so often, all the blond had to do was think hard enough and it would be real. There was no Beyond Birthday; no bare bedroom in god knows where, just the two of them, together. Always, just like they'd promised.

The boy had been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't heard B's voice calling for him, had forgotten that the man was even there until he was shaking him, his voice raising slightly. Fingers digging into his shoulders, leaving more marks on his wounded body. When their eyes finally met, crimson daring blue, the blond knew what was coming, feared the question and what he could possibly give for an answer. "Where was Mello? What was he thinking about?"

"N-nothing." The blond bowed his head, resting it against B's shoulder in mock affection. He prayed that the madman would just forget, would become distracted by the gesture. His hopes were dashed, B violently shaking him, screaming at him.

"What was it?! What could be so important that Mello would ignore me, when he swears that I am all he desires, what consumes his mind so? What is it? _Who_ is it?" The older man seemed to realize that he had lost focus himself, that he wasn't carefully playing his part. He had slipped back into unpredictable Beyond Birthday, to the angry psychopath, ranting and raving and set off by the slightest word or gesture. His voice lowered, affected that normal bored tone once again. "Mello offends me greatly. I do not want him merely for his body; I desire to possess his soul as well. To have each and every part of his being as my own. To be ignored in such a way is devastating to myself. What is it that distracts Mello so?"

The words came before he could stop them; as usual the blond was opening his mouth without thinking of the consequences. He sniffled, the sound muffled from where he was held against B's chest. "I miss L. I miss him so much." Mello waited for the pain, waited to be strangled, to be hit, to be thrown across the room. Instead, his captor only sighed heavily, laying the boy on his back on the bed.

Beyond stood, kissed Mello's forehead. "My love is delirious. My apologies, my outburst was uncalled for. I should have remembered how fragile my love's mind has been. Mello has not been himself for days. I have seen the signs, but obviously have not done enough to help. The psychosis is becoming worse I'm afraid. But do not worry love; I will not let you slip away from me. Never, ever again." The brunette fastened a cuff around one of Mello's wrists again, attaching it to the headboard, before leaving the room.

When he returned, there was a syringe in his hand. There was clear fluid inside, and the blond watched the familiar practice of tapping and squirting out the air bubbles. It had been awhile since he'd been awake for it, but he knew from the marks on his arms and the constant haze clouding his mind that he was still being drugged regularly. He was always so tired, always waking up in a fog. He must have been sleeping nearly half the days away in a drug-induced stupor.

There was no point in struggling, but the boy did his best regardless. He wished he could have a clear head, just for a few hours, but there was no chance in that. Maybe if he could think clearly, he could get out of this. If he could use his mind to it's full potential, then he could come up with a plan, or at least not feel so lost and hopeless.

When Beyond saw that the teen was indeed going to make an effort to keep away, he climbed into the bed, sitting on the teen's hips to hold him down. The blond was pulling at his restraint, rubbing the raw skin, his other arm weakly slapping at the man. "Mello, shh, baby. Calm down. This is for your own good. I promise you." B held the blonde's wrist, stretching his arm out, the needle poised at the inside of the elbow. It was no concern to the kidnapper if Mello were to knock the syringe from his hand, there was more where that came from. "Sweetheart, you need to take your medicine now. I know how frightening this is for Mello, but I swear it will all be better soon. The medicine will see to that. Mello is very sick right now, but I have the cure. Just be still." The needle was plunged into the crook of Mello's elbow, the plunger depressed and the poison released before he could do anything to stop it. B carefully, lovingly pulled it back out, setting it aside while he restrained the other arm.

Mello's legs had been left unrestrained, though B still used his own weight to hold the boy where he lay. Minutes passed by, and then the effects began to make themselves known. This time was different than the others. The calming effect came first, followed by a wave of confusion, the teen's vision becoming slightly blurry, his eyelids getting heavy. B shook him. "Hmm?"

"Don't fall asleep. Stay with me. Come on love. You will feel so much better soon. Just let it in. Enjoy the peace." Beyond smiled, stroking Mello's cheek with just his fingertips. It was comforting, soothing. It felt so right. Everything would be all right now. There was no more fear. The blond felt like he could lie there forever, the tension oozing out, melting away like it had been only a dream. Everything felt so dream-like, surreal. His mind tried to grasp the situation, to come up with a word for what was coursing through his veins. It was not the usual sedative, the stuff they'd give in a hospital, in a mental institution possibly. That had just put him out, given him dreamless sleep. This was new, something he'd never experienced but should recognize from his lessons. Street drug. That was it. Heroin? Yes.

Briefly, Mello panicked. This stuff could be laced with anything. Could be deadly with just one use. Of course, any drug might be, if in the wrong hands. But there were procedures to follow, regulations. The other drugs he'd been given were safer. This came from foreign countries, sent to basements and warehouses to be cut with any number of poisons. The thought left as quickly as it came, and he couldn't help but give in to the sensations again. Peace. That was what it offered. Just like B had said. Or was that L? Smiling down at him, lovingly petting his hair and whispering softly. Yes, only L could touch him this way, make him feel so secure. He could trust L. Could trust him to administer the medicine that must really be needed. Was he losing his mind? Had he imagined it all? The rape, the torture, the pain. Yes. It was only he and L.

"Mello trusts me. I can see it in his eyes. He knows that this is necessary for his health. I love you, my angel." A kiss, gentle at first, then intense, passionate. The cuffs were undone, and Mello was wrapping his arms around a familiar neck, hand going to play with mussed black hair, tugging on a handful. It was softer than it looked, silky, like his own. Despite the appearance, the fact that a brush never so much as came within ten feet of the mess, it wasn't knotted in the least. He could run his fingers through it, could twirl it around them. L was making little pleased noises into his mouth, and Mello tugged harder. Yes, the detective always loved when he did that. He could feel just how much he loved it, as the older man lay between his naked thighs. "I love you so much."

"I love you too L."

* * *

Flashes, brief glimpses into what had happened after the first dose. Mello could see two

pairs of eyes, blue superimposed over crimson, both images wavering, blurry. There was something wrong with L's face, the smile twisted, wrong. There was something wrong with the way he held Mello, the way he wrapped his arms around the teen while they made love. L was always so gentle, so loving. The look on his lover's face was nothing but possession, a master to his slave.

Mello must have passed out sometime during the act, as B was encouraging him to come, first again. Mello always came first, in everything, before the detective. He was important, precious. The most treasured belonging. No, not belonging. But hadn't he said it himself? Mello is mine. Yes, he was. He belonged to L.

Now the teen was waking up, and this time he was not alone. The arm around his waist was deceptively strong for how thin and fragile it looked. It could hit hard, it could restrain him, as it was doing now. This was not a man holding his teenage lover, to sleep curled up together, to be close just for the sake of being close. Of course, the man lying behind him wasn't sleeping anyway. His breathing was irregular, and when the boy shifted in the bed, trying to stretch out the limbs that had gone numb from laying for so long, he was pulled closer, the back of his neck kissed, not in affection, but in warning. B was aware that he was trying to move, and wanted him to know that it wasn't appreciated.

He was being restrained, though the handcuffs were dangling off the bed without his wrists locked inside for once. It had been so long since he'd had more than a few moments of freedom, that he felt some part of himself missing it. Some deep, dark recess of his mind was begging for the comfort of the restraints again. They kept him grounded; the pain of the metal rubbing against the raw, bleeding skin of his wrists reminded him that he was alive.

"Good morning, love. I had not expected you to wake so soon. I thought I had thoroughly worn you out." The man giggled. "That was, ah, intense does not quite convey how wonderful it felt." The blond was turned around, made to face the older man. "I must say, though, that the best part was listening to Mello's dreams. He spoke of me. I am quite flattered that I consume his thoughts so." The brunette shifted again, laying on top of the teen, kissing first his lips, then his neck, down to his chest. He tilted his head up when the boy moaned as he sucked on a nipple, bit at the dark pink flesh. Mello's body overrode his thoughts, hips bucking up. "So pretty, Mello. So sugary sweet."

"L? Is that you?" Their eyes had met, and the blond panicked again. Red eyes. The words kidnapper, torturer, rapist, shook away the hazy after-effects of too much sleep, and, oh, the drugs. Those were not L's eyes. This was not his lover. It spoke to him like it was, it used all the right words, it kissed and licked and bit at all the rights spots. "What's happening?" The older man didn't answer at first, distracting him by moving to kiss at the inside of his thighs, rubbing his cheek against them.

Beyond watched the confusion surface in those blue eyes, the beginnings of fear. "Oh, Mello, I have been so terribly selfish again. I want only to touch my love, but he is not in the right state of mind for my attentions. That can easily be cured, though. The brunette sat up, reaching into his pocket. He produced a small tin, opening the lid to reveal a single white pill inside. He placed it in his palm, holding it out to the boy. A gothic styled 'L' was etched into one side. "Open up, love, take your medicine. That's a good boy."

Mello did as he was told, the pill placed on the tip of his tongue, B's hand going over his mouth, forcing him to swallow it dry. The blond didn't struggle once he'd seen the world famous symbol; this came from a source that he could trust with his very life. If L thought that he needed it, then he would have to take it. He was sick, and his lover was only trying to help. "Thank you."

"Mello is getting better already. You are quite welcome my love." The kidnapper continued his attentions then, carefully going over all the secret spots that only the detective should know about. Minutes flew by like seconds, the boy shutting his eyes against the sensations that overwhelmed his body. It felt so good, so right. This was where he was meant to be.

"Open your eyes. I need to see how much I please my love." The blond did as he was told. The room was spinning, the white walls were suddenly so bright, the brunette's skin seemed to glow above him. He could see the older man's chest expand and contract with each breath, could count each rib, sharp as blades, as he removed his plain white shirt. Mello's hips were rising up, grinding against the other's. Never had such a simple action caused so much pleasure, it felt like every nerve ending was hypersensitive, every time B touched anywhere, it felt like his fingertips were sinking inside him, stroking him from inside out. "You're being such a good boy. Would you like to touch me too?"

Mello nodded enthusiastically, moaning loudly when the brunette reached to undo a single cuff. His other arm was still connected to the bed, and when Beyond reached to undo that one, he jerked away, moaning again at the friction of metal against skin. His free hand went to B's chest, carefully, tentatively, tracing each rib, expecting to slice his fingers on the bones. When it was apparent that this wouldn't happen, his hand drifted to the single button of the jeans hanging loosely on his captor's hips. The metal was so cold compared to the warm skin of the older man's stomach. The zipper slid down easily, the blond already pulling the fabric down, freeing B's aching erection. That skin was warmer still, soft and silky. Mello moaned again, feeling like his lover might as well be stroking him when his hand wrapped around the hardness.

"Hold on, love. Believe me, I am as impatient as you, but we must wait. Just a moment. I'll be right there." When his captor stood, the blonde's hand drifted to his own erection, it felt almost too good to touch, was almost painful. The room still spun, and it took him several moments to be able to concentrate on the warning expression that was shot in his direction. "No. Bad boy. Does Mello wish to be punished?" The blond shook his head. He was sorry, so sorry. He hadn't meant to be bad. He didn't want L to leave, not now. "That's what I thought. Patience. If I can't trust Mello, then he will have to be properly restrained again."

The blonde's eyes lost focus again, staring first at the cross that still decorated the wall, the image of his god bleeding for his sins. The blood was actually running down his wrists and feet, dripping from the gaping wound in his stomach, droplets landing on the hard wood floors. It was so red, there was so much. His hand went to his chest, feeling the beat underneath, pulsing faster than it ever had, threatening to burst out of his ribcage.

He was so lost in trying to find a point to focus on that he didn't see the laptop set out on a nearby table, a camera feed being connected, blinking red light. The image of the bed was mirrored on the screen, his own writhing body and captured in full color. The flush that spread from head to toe, his leanly muscled body writhing on top of the white sheets. It felt so good, like nothing he'd ever experience before. It couldn't compare to the last dose of his medicine, though the peace that it had given him for those few moments felt wonderful, this was infinitely better. Never had he felt so secure in himself, so happy. Euphoria. Pleasure, limitless pleasure. Mello couldn't wait for L to come back to the bed; he knew that he could make love all night if he was allowed.

"Please L."

Across the room, Beyond watched the blond pant and squirm on the bed. This particular drug could be unpredictable, sometimes causing no effect at all, but it seemed to do wonders on the teen. He was an absolute mess, begging with eyes wide as saucers, pleading with that skinny form, already hard as the brunette. Finally, the recording was set, ready to capture the intimate act, to prove that Mello was indeed his and his alone. More than the hair, the clothing, the record of breaking cases, what defined the world's greatest detective was his most lovely possession, the blond teen handcuffed to the bed. If Mello was his, then he was L.

"Of course, my love." Beyond made his way back to the bed, stopping again to reach for something else in the pocket of his discarded jeans. Mello instantly recognized the tube of lubricant as L's preferred brand, because it was flavored like strawberries. He'd always questioned the detective whether it was the taste of himself, or sweets, that he enjoyed more. L was unable to give an answer. "Mello has been such a good boy."

"Thank you, L." Mello spread his legs without being asked, watching the older man coat his fingers with the flavored lube. The blond lifted his hips, B's hand sliding between his legs, his fingers pushing into him, making him pant and squirm. "L. Please. Please." The teen had forgotten about his recent injuries, the torn flesh, even as they were irritated again with the intrusion of those fingers. However, it didn't hurt at all, and he pushed against the digits, impaling himself while he chewed on the tips of his own fingers.

"Is Mello prepared?" The blond nodded, though he whined when B's fingers were removed, clawing at his shoulder and wrapping a leg around his waist. He reached between them, taking hold of the older man's hard dick, forgetting that there had hardly been enough preparation. L would never have allowed this normally, and it should have made him scream in pain when the whole length of it was shoved into him. But Mello was already coming hard, both legs wrapping around the brunette's waist as he withdrew nearly all the way, before shoving himself back in.

Beyond bit at Mello's neck, the sharp points of his canines still clamped down even as the blood began to flow. The blond was clawing at his back, the older man could already feel the teen hardening again between them as he pushed the boy towards the head of the bed, going to his knees, pulling the boy into his lap, the arm still cuffed to the bed twisted painfully behind him.

"Such a good boy. There's my beautiful angel. That's right, baby, come on, fuck yourself." Hands went around the slim waist, forcing the boy to move faster. "You can do better than that, can't you?" The blond moaned, licked a wet line along B's throat, bit, sucked. The older man did his best not to react, to make the teen do the work, but he couldn't help but continue moving his own hips up with the boy's. He looked towards the camera at the other end of the room, smiling wickedly as Mello begged him to come inside of him. "Mine," he stated, speaking more to the man who would soon be receiving the transmission than the pretty teenager. The brunette reached between them, stroking Mello's erection, bringing him to yet another orgasm as he whispered what a good boy he was, how much he loved him, how good it felt to have his cock inside of him.

The camera would still be left on when Beyond lifted the teen out of his lap, laying the boy's back to the camera, the blood between his thighs vivid red so like the kidnapper's eyes. Mello was still thanking L as the brunette left the room to shower and dress. It would be left on long enough to capture the older man returning, Mello reminding him that he had not restrained his other hand, he missed the cuff already.

* * *

Interpol had been calling for two weeks straight, desperately trying to contact the detective anyway they could. Watari had so far been intercepting these calls, trying to keep the peace even after L had been less than gentlemanly in his method of refusal. So, when the message alert sounded, L sitting right in front of his laptop but making no move to reply, the old man got up from his seat and pressed the key. They were both surprised when L's own symbol appeared, though the colors had been inverted like a photonegative. Watari was confused, but the detective immediately knew the significance.

"Beyond Birthday." There was no reply, and L pounded his fist into the desk, screaming into the microphone. "Answer me, you bastard!" Still no response, but the background was now fading out, and a new picture was taking its place. Again, L tried to communicate with the kidnapper, but soon realized it was a recording, seeing the time stamp at the bottom of the screen. It had only been last night.

There was Mello, breathing, alive. That was the most important thing. But then L watched in horror as he realized that his lover was completely nude, and had multiple wounds decorating his body. He was also thinner than before, and looked as if he hadn't had a shower since he'd last been seen, his hair was a wreck, matted with blood and sweat and dirt.

Watari looked away from the screen to watch his charge's reaction, and partially because he was having trouble with the events unfolding before his eyes. The old man had been the one to walk in on the couple the first time, to discover them in bed together, but this was different. He had dealt with his fair share of traumatized children before, knew the horrible things that kidnappers and rapists might put their victim through, had had such things described in detail by children younger than Mello's age, but he had never had to witness such an event with his own eyes.

It was obvious already that the child had been drugged, his pupils were dilated, he was displaying other classic signs of one under the influence of a date rape drug, ecstasy perhaps. He was also chained to a bed, held captive by a man who was no doubt criminally insane. Yet the scene was somehow that more upsetting when the blond seemed to be enjoying the act, was in fact _asking_ the older man to...well, have intercourse with him.

A hand was laid on L's shoulder in a gesture of comfort, but it was flung away. "Get the fuck out. Now!" L was shaking, arms wrapped around his knees, hair shagging over his eyes, though the tears had already fallen down his cheeks. "I said get out!"

"I do not think you should watch this alone." The old man did not trust his charge not to harm himself at this point, and he himself could not bear to leave the room. If Mello had to experience this, if _L_ had to experience this, then he had to stay as well. It was his duty as their parent. He wrapped his arms around L's thin shoulders, not releasing him even as the detective struggled and yelled and swore at him. Finally the detective slumped against him, when it was over, when the kidnapper had left the room.

"Oh, god, Mello. He hurt my baby. Watari, look at him. Oh god." Another buzz sounded, the tone signifying that L had an e-mail alert, though the detective made now move to close the video. Watari did it for him, silently reading the message. The caretaker had been to many an execution, but never had he so wished for the death of another.

/_My friend, as you have seen, I am taking excellent care of our Mello. He is very happy with me, and does not wish to return home. Do not waste energy looking for us, we cannot be found. This signal will be untraceable, and I personally owe you the thanks for educating me in this area, though I admit great pride in my own skills. Even if you were to discover our little love nest, my angel would not return to you. Mello is mine. He takes great pleasure in this fact, as you yourself have witnessed. _

_I bid you farewell on both of our behalves. _

_L_./

Watari switched the computer off, fighting with L when the detective tried to replay the video. "There are no clues to be found there. You will only be punishing yourself by watching again." He knew that that was what L intended to do, putting himself through the torment of watching the video over and over, not for the purpose of finding clues, but just because he felt that he deserved to be in pain if Mello had to as well.

L let himself be held, let himself cry on Watari's shoulder again. "He asked him to do it. He _begged_ for it. I'll have that monster's head. I'll bathe in his fucking blood, I swear on my own life I will." Watari only pulled him closer, petting his hair, whispering empty words of encouragement. B had been chosen because he was the best and brightest at the time, even if it was already obvious that there was something not right about him. There was still the question of whether or not A's suicide had been assisted, after all. But they had ignored all the signs, because his mind nearly matched that of L's. In fact, if it hadn't been for the signs of antisocial behavior, he would have been chosen as the first successor, there wouldn't have been the next round of children considered after him. Watari feared that the e-mail may very well have been the truth, they might never be able to find him if he did not wish to be found. And if the video were any indication, then how would Mello be even if he were returned safely. Would his mind be intact?

No, there was no need for such negative thinking. They would get Mello back, they had to. Because if they didn't, it would destroy L. "I swear, when that day comes, I will be there to help. I will serve you his head on a platter."

"Promise me. Promise me we'll get him back." L looked five years old again, riding away from the orphanage, crying for his mother and father; sucking on the lollipop Watari had given him in-between the sniffles and sobs.

"I promise." There was work to be done, people to call, but they sat there for hours, L sobbing loudly like the five year old Watari remembered, the old man wiping away his own silent tears when he thought his charge wasn't looking.


	4. Subordination

Thank You to rkoalagirl, Faye Violette, angstkitten, giniirox, Hikari Aiko, and AlmightySponge for reviewing!

CHAPTER 4

SUBORDINATION

Just over four months had passed, and by the end of that time, they were relocating every few days. The first few times, Mello had been heavily sedated, though it was apparent by the end of the second month that he had truly convinced himself that he was in L's care, and so would not argue when the brunette told him to get up and leave. The teen made no attempt to escape his handcuffs, didn't complain about the blindfolds. If L said it was important for his safety, then he believed him.

Each hideout was nearly identical to the last, and B always made sure to copy everything as closely as he could. It made Mello feel safe, secure, at home. They had to be running, of course, because Beyond Birthday was close on the hunt for Mello and L. We could not have that, now could we? The child had stopped asking why, after the last time. He had been beaten so badly that he was unable to walk for several days, had to be carried to the bathroom even. Of course, that was his own fault. He would not make the mistake of upsetting his lover twice. L was under so much stress, and was only doing what was necessary to protect them both. How could he have been so blind?

For the first few months, Mello was kept in the bedroom, only let out to use the bathroom, and even then he was never alone. B always followed close behind, usually keeping the boy's hands cuffed behind his back, or chaining their wrists together if the older man was feeling adventurous. The blond was also kept nude for the majority of each day, only getting dressed when they moved to a new home. B had just begun bringing him some books, though he was not allowed to hold them himself, the brunette would read to him whenever he pleased. It was so kind, so generous. It warmed Mello's heart to know that his lover cared so much for him that he would spend his precious time entertaining him.

By the middle of their third month together, Beyond had come up with a wonderful idea, a gift for his lover. He brought in a plastic bag behind his back one night, waking Mello earlier than usual to present the package. "Love? Come on sweetheart. I have something very special for you. You may open it now, though."

"Is it my birthday?" The blond gave a flirtatious smile, wriggling his hips as best he could, though his wrists and ankles were still restrained as usual. "Did you bring a new toy?" The last time B had brought in a gift, it had been a metal choker chain, which was now a regular part of their sex life. The brunette had said that it felt better when Mello was gasping for air, made those special muscles that belonged only to him spasm and squeeze around his dick in the most pleasurable of ways. The blond had found that a lack of oxygen heightened his own orgasm, and regularly thanked his master and complimented him for his genius in coming up with the idea.

"Yes, it is your birthday. Though I am uncertain who will enjoy the gift more." Beyond went to work at removing Mello's restraints, though the blond whined over it the entire time. "Poor baby. Don't worry, master will give them back soon." He helped the teen stand, patient while he steadied his weakened legs. They still shook when the brunette let go, removing the items from their bag. He produced two pieces of shiny black fabric, carefully unfolding them on the bed. "Happy fifteenth, love. Give us your leg. There, that's a good boy." They had to lay the teen on the bed to pull the leather pants up his skinny legs. The waistband barely made it up over his ass, and he knew that if he were to sit up in them, he would no doubt flash. Not that that mattered, only L would see anyway. The older man carefully tied the laces, then retrieved a matching vest. "Arms above your head now." The vest was zipped, the bottom of it ending right above his belly button. Mello was not used to wearing clothes now, and felt a little insecure, a little less pretty with the shiny tight leather around him, even though it covered very little.

"Do I look pretty?" The teen turned around, wriggling his hips, sliding his hand over his exposed stomach. He unzipped the leather vest halfway, exposing his chest, hand darting inside to slide over and pinch a nipple. "Cause, if I don't, they can come back off. I'm not cold or anything." Mello's hand went to the laces of the leather pants, tugging the bow loose, but his hand was soon slapped away. "Thank you. It's a lovely birthday present. How may I thank you, master?"

"Mello is welcome. It is very sexy. You don't have to take it off. But I know a way you can thank me." B smiled suggestively, and Mello dropped to his knees without so much as a moment's hesitation. He was a good boy; he'd been trained well. His hands automatically went behind his back, and he turned his head up to pout at the brunette. "You miss your cuffs, baby? Such a good boy, I don't even have to remind you anymore." The blond nodded, remaining where he sat while the older man went for the handcuffs, kneeling behind him, the metal enclosing tightly around his wrists, digging in just like he desired. There was faint scarring around each wrist already, and more raw skin above that. Many of his wounds were like that, in a constant state of healing and reopening, bleeding and scarring.

"Thank you." The older man patted the teen on the top of his head, running his fingers though the newly trimmed and washed blond locks. There was some dried blood at the back, from the shower that morning, and the older man wondered if the child might have a concussion. "Mello received quite an injury to his head this morning. There will be no sleep tonight, just to be safe." The teen was already undoing the button of the brunette's jeans, skillfully using his teeth for both that and to pull down the zipper. "We will have to find a way to entertain ourselves."

Mello blushed, licking at the tip of his lover's dick, smiling with pride when the older man moaned and took a handful of his hair. It felt so good to be wanted, to be needed. He knew L would never leave, because he could make him feel so good, and he was such a good boy. L had said it himself. As long as he was a good boy for his master, he could always be the favorite pet, the only pet. "I'm being spoiled." The teen winked, before taking B's dick into his mouth, willing his throat to open up, allowing the man to slowly thrust into him, use him like some kind of cheap sex doll.

"Yes, well, it is Mello's birthday." The blond could already feel his lover's body spasming, his knees wobbling. When he came, the blond gratefully swallowed. "You're getting better every day, sweetheart."

"Thank you." Beyond pulled the teen up, walking him to the bed. The new clothes weren't the only toys that he had bought, and he intended to use as many as he could. It would be a long night, after all. "Now, first things first, I hope Mello didn't think that just because it's his birthday he doesn't have to take his medicine." The boy was laid on the bed, handcuffs removed again. "I know Mello hates to take them off, but he knows that it is necessary."

"Yes, thank you master. I want my medicine please." The boy held out his arm, already littered with little scars and holes from the injections. The first few times had made him terribly sick later, especially when he was bad and wasn't fed. Now if he went for more than a few hours without a dose, he began to sweat, to feel nauseous. He obviously needed it more than he thought. He was even beginning to like the feeling of the needle piercing his flesh. It made him think of how L would pierce him with other things. Mello's shiny new leather pants were becoming tight around an erection, as B fastened a belt around his arm, just above his elbow, pulling it tight, cutting off the circulation. "I didn't have it yet today."

"Yes you did, you were just sleeping baby. I would never forget to give it to you." It was over quickly, the effects making themselves known almost immediately, the dizziness already fleeing after just a few minutes. It had felt like he hadn't yet, Mello was sure that he hadn't, but if L said he gave it to him, then he did. Maybe he was just metabolizing it faster these days. Though it must still be working, he was already feeling calmer, relaxed. "There, that better?" The belt was undone, though placed close on the bed while the handcuffs were fastened again.

"Mmhmm." Mello's eyelids were getting heavy. His medicine didn't make him sleepy anymore, so it must be the injury to his head that morning. Not that he would have minded doing it again. "Are we going to make love now? I'm so tired." Beyond went back to the bag, bringing a small square of chocolate, a rare treat, which the blond accepted, letting it melt in his mouth before swallowing.

"Soon, love. But we're going to play a game first. Turn over." The blond had been expecting this, as his cuffs had been done around the front for once, and did was he was told. He pressed his head into a pillow, bent his knees under himself so that his hips were in the air, waiting. He heard the belt come crashing down before it snapped against his lower back, against the exposed flesh. A second later, it snapped against the backs of his thighs, then against his ass, his lower back again.

"Please, master." The next hit, against the blonde's shoulders, was harder, and had him crying out in pain. Even with his medicine coursing through his veins he felt the full force of it. "Please?"

"What do you want, angel?" The belt was cast aside, the blond turned over. Automatically, he raised his arms above his head, though the older man left them as they were. The teen cast his eyes down to his lap, and raised an eyebrow, stuck out his lower lip. "You want me to fuck you?" The teen nodded. "Mello looks so beautiful in his clothes, I hate to remove them."

"Please?" The blond lowered his hands again, fumbling at the laces of his pants. When his fingers brushed over his clothed erection, he sighed, eyes closing. B slapped him hard.

"I knew Mello couldn't behave. That's alright, I've thought of a wonderful new punishment for him." Mello's pants were undone, slid over his hips and carefully laid on a nearby chair. The brunette left the room, returning with yet another new toy. "The rules are simple. Mello is already familiar with them, I think. If you don't come, if you listen like a good boy, I'll fuck you. If you do, I'll leave you all by yourself. You don't want that, do you?" The blond shook his head. "That's what I thought. Now, spread those pretty legs for me. Good boy." There was no preparation before the vibrator was shoved in his ass, but that's the way Mello liked it now. He'd screamed and cried the first few times, but had quickly learned that that upset his lover. L liked it better when there wasn't any lube. It felt better for him, and he was master, so the blond had to learn to like it too. His medicine helped a lot. Besides, the blood was all the lube either of them needed.

"What's that for?" The teen saw the remote in B's hands only seconds before he pressed the button. There was a muffled buzzing noise, then the toy began to vibrate, and it was just big enough that it pressed against that spot that he had to beg his lover to hit when he was inside him. "Oh, god, stop. Please, I'm going to come. Please. Please stop."

"You won't. I told you not to." The toy kept vibrating against Mello's prostate. He crossed his legs, uncrossed them, twisted and turned on the bed, trying to escape the pleasure that was going to get him in so much trouble. If only he could hold out for a little while, but it felt so good. No! L would be so mad. He had to be a good boy. Had to. He raised his arms above his head, gripping a post in the headboard.

Beyond sat down beside teen, watching him writhe and beg. The toy would only stop if he pressed the button, but had yet to do so. Then Mello turned towards him, head in his nude lap, licking and nipping at his thigh. "May I?" The brunette nodded, and Mello expertly sucked him to the second orgasm that night. "Please?"

Beyond pressed the red button then, and the buzzing stopped. The blond visibly relaxed, though he was still breathing with short little gasps, chest rising and falling. The brunette touched a bite mark around one of the boy's nipples, and the teen moved closer to him, practically purring. "This one's healing nicely, don't you think? I always hate to see them go. I would like to leave something a little more permanent. What do you think? It's Mello's birthday, after all. Would he like that?"

"Yes, master."

The older man went to work, carefully laying out the tools. He had been planning this for quite some time. "Mello's body does not quite match his new outfit, I think. There needs to be more...decoration. In my opinion." There was a single hollow needle, laid on a cloth on the bedside table, as well as two tiny silver barbells. "This will hurt, I promise. Mello will love it."

Yes, the blond nodded, he would. He always loved when master hurt him. It was just another way to show him how much he was loved. An eraser was held against one side of the first nipple, while the needle was pressed into the other side. The blond took a deep breath, watching it make it's way through the sensitive flesh. The barbell was pushed through the hollow end of the needle. Then the process was repeated on the other side. The second time hurt more, and the blond moaned in encouragement. "Thank you."

"So pretty. We can make love now, sweetheart. Mello is so perfect." The toy was removed then, set aside for another night. "Stay on your back, love. I want to be able to look at those pretty new piercings. Baby, feeling that needle go into you was almost better than fucking you." The faint traces of saliva and come on B's dick were more than the usual lubrication he used, and he was in so much easier this time. He must have been pleased, Mello thought, because he thrust against the teen's prostate, whispering that he could come now, fingers tugging on one of the piercings, and the blond thanked him when he complied.

"I love you L. You love me too?"

"Of course. Mello is mine." Those three last words had become familiar now, and the blond needed to hear them more than he needed to hear how pretty he was, or how loved he was. Nothing was better in the whole world than being owned by his lover. "Mello will always be mine."

* * *

More weeks and months passed, holidays came and went in the same fashion that Mello's birthday had. Though the regular doses of his 'medicine' never stopped, the blond was assured that he was getting better each day. Of course, he had been so traumatized by the obsession that their pursuer had had on him, and the constant running and changes homes, that it was going to take quite awhile for him to be well again. However, he was now trusted enough to walk around most of the rooms in the house, though he was to stay away from where computers and televisions were kept. He could watch his own television in his room, or listen to music on the laptop that didn't have an Internet connection. Mello was very grateful for the freedom, and did his best to be a good boy.

Mello had very little say in what their sex life entailed, but recently he had been allowed to make some small suggestions. These were considered lessons, a way to expand his mind other than through books and prerecorded television programs. They were right in the middle of a lesson on 'healthy' practices for sadism and masochism, the older man taking up a chair beside the bed that the boy was handcuffed to, picking out sections to read aloud here and there, but mostly quietly studying by himself. They were currently having a discussion on the chapter of branding, when Mello dared to make a suggestion of his own.

"I want you to mark me." Beyond set the book down, raising an eyebrow. There was a fresh tattoo on the inside of one of the boy's wrists, a large black 'L' in careful detail. He had had to be very careful when he struggled in his handcuffs not to abrade the healing flesh, as the scabs could be pulled up and take the ink out. The night after it had been done, the handcuffs had to be traded in with a carefully knotted piece of soft velvety fabric. The blonde could have escaped such a restraint if he had tried hard enough, but he was a good boy and would not do it.

"How?" Their were color photos of several different techniques in the book before him, and B was having a difficult time choosing which method would be the most interesting, cause the most pain while still being easy enough to keep a clear mark. Scars could be so unpredictable, and the text advised that while it could be done at home, many had successfully managed to heal properly, it should only be carried out by a professional. The brunette considered himself quite skilled, the tattoo was coming along nicely. There were also many fresh bite marks, cuts, needle tracks, that regularly decorated the teen's beautiful skin. It still amazed him how the pretty young boy could keep such a golden color when he had not seen the sun in ten months.

"I want to try something new." The blond dared to say it, hoping that L would realize that he didn't mean that he was bored with their sex life at all. The brunette always kept him on his toes, was always coming up with new and wonderful things to do to him. Mello craned his neck, trying to peer over the text to see what the other man was looking at. It was set aside again, and the child pouted. "Let me look."

"I believe that Mello's mind is sharp enough to come up with an idea or two. He doesn't need to see." Trust was supposed to be the key to any healthy S&M relationship, knowing that your master knew when to stop was the most important factor to consider. The subordinate also had to know their limits, to be able to say the safe word, or give a sign when it was too much. Beyond saw this as absolute rubbish. What fun was fear, after all, if it wasn't genuine? How could you really be scared when you knew it was all an act? Boring.

"Please, just hurt me. Make me yours. I don't care how." If he wasn't told constantly that he belonged to the man, if he wasn't given a reminder every day then he began to feel nervous, paranoid. He needed to know. 'Mello is mine', the words repeated over and over in his head. Mine.

"Mello must have some idea." The kidnapper had several of his own, but wondered just how far the child would go on his own, what kind of imagination he had. L had surely picked him for his sharp mind, although he was only second in line as successor. There was something special about this boy, something different from all the others. It couldn't be the fiery temper that he had once had, that was for certain. L never had liked taking orders. It couldn't have been their very dull, unimaginative sex life. There was a keen wit behind all that sweetness, a devilish mind waiting to be opened up.

Possibly, one day the teen could join him in some of his favorite pastimes. He would have liked to have a partner when he left the house, when he committed the crimes that the Wammy House somehow had not discovered in all these years. Maybe someday, he hoped, Mello could join him. They could tear the world apart together, and never be caught. They could feast on it. But there was still many months of careful training and breaking of a strong will before that could come to pass. The brunette could still see the strong will surface in those blue eyes from time to time, in-between the doses of his medicine, or the marking of his body.

He wasn't broken yet.

Mello nervously met the older man's eyes, daring to have an idea, an opinion. L did not like to be told what to do, did not like for someone to come up with the solution before him. The blond could not imagine that he even liked the idea of having successors. There would never be anyone greater than the world famous detective. "I need another mark that won't heal. Another scar. Own me." It was the word 'need' that pleased the brunette most. Not 'want'. _Need_. Mello _needed_ him. Of course he did, the teen belonged to him.

Beyond set his studies aside. He didn't need them. Why had he even bothered to look? He already had the idea turning in his head now, had even before he'd begun reading. The implements were already in his possession. There was nothing special about them, just a piece of metal, a flame. The teen was turned on his stomach, hands above his head. His hair was brushed aside, and the ever-present choke chain was removed. Other than the skin that had been rubbed raw, the back of the boy's neck was one of the few places that were nearly clean. It would just not do. "We'll have to trim your hair again soon, love, it's getting long. And I'll be wanting to see this as clearly as possible when it's finished."

"I wish I could see it too." The blond relaxed while he waited for his lover to set up. The tattoo had taken forever, and looked lovely. But it had not hurt enough. He squirmed in excitement when he heard the sound of a piece of metal being heated up with a small torch, could feel the heat of it even before it was placed against the back of his neck. He didn't have to ask what his lover was doing; he could feel the scorching metal making the four straight lines of the 'M'. It wasn't until the next letter, an 'I', before he screamed, bit the pillow under his face.

"You'll know it's there, that should be enough. Now, stop moving around so much. Mello does not wish for my hand to slip, does he?" A muffled reply in the negative was made, then the brunette went to work on the next letter. He'd had to stop to reheat the piece of metal on the end of the tongs that he held, watching it turn from cold silver to bright red-orange, before he set it down for the first line of the 'N'. By the time he was working on the 'E', he could hear the blond panting into the pillow, trying to regulate his breathing between the screams. "Such pretty noises. Louder. Come on baby. For me." The word 'MINE' was finished, but the boy was so beautiful, so loud, was most definitely about to come. He couldn't stop now. The metal was reheated again, placed against each shoulder, down on his back over the fresh wounds that a belt had made that morning. When it touched the lower back, right over that small, tight, perfect ass, the teen was coming, calling his name, L, and thank you, and again please.

"Feel better?"

"Yes." Mello panted. "God, yes. L, oh god yes. Thank you. I love you." The boy stilled, holding his breath, needing to hear the word even after it had been burned into the back of his neck. His master made him wait for several minutes, let the doubt slip in, the insecurity.

"Mello is mine."

* * *

The entire order of the Wammy House had been disturbed from the moment of Mello's disappearance. The students who Mello had gotten along with were heart broken, terrified that their friend was not coming back alive. Those who had not known him as well, or who considered themselves enemies of his, were shaken still. There was a constant fear that B would come back to pick another child. Theories circulated that he was after the L title alone, that he would kidnap or kill those who might be close to the top of the scores. There were others still that thought he was merely on a killing spree, that he might just do away with everyone. Maybe it was revenge for A? Months went by, and still Mello was the only one that had been taken. Yet everyone was on a constant state of alert, some helping in the search, some desperately trying to ignore it, still others begging for a placement in a different orphanage.

Near had had to take over for L's cases, because the detective refused to answer any more of Interpol's calls. The child had taken on the L title temporarily, so as not to concern world leaders, who had called Watari on numerous occasions, questioning as to whether or not the detective was even still among the living. After all, there were thousands of criminals who would give their lives to arrange for his death. Watari had assured that the young man was just taking some time away from it all, that he would be back to work soon. When it was obvious that he was not about to do any such thing, the albino teen had been given full access to all of his mentor's files. Near felt defeated, because this was not a win. Despite his cold demeanor, he admired the detective, and even somewhat enjoyed Mello's company, at least when he wasn't threatening to kill him. How could he win when the competition was M.I.A.?

Matt and Watari had stayed close to L's side, putting in as many sleepless nights to the hunt as they could physically manage. The detective still clocked twice as many hours as them both combined. He hadn't slept more than a few minutes a day in months. The brunette looked like a man on his deathbed, the bags under his eyes heavier and darker than ever. Watari laid plates of his favorite treats in front of him, coffee and tea sugared with sugar and cream. The man would occasionally allow himself a cup of black coffee only, when it was absolutely necessary to his survival. Otherwise, the detective sustained himself on sheer will alone.

"L, I would feel much better if you would eat something." The old man had sat an entire cake before his charge, laden with frosting and berries, a cup of decaffeinated coffee. L eyed the cake suspiciously, sniffed the coffee, and continued on his work. A window was pulled up, and the video began to play. There was the monthly update (the latest in a collection of ten), that he had been watching every hour for the past three days.

It showed Mello, thinner yet, marked with cuts and bruises, hands cuffed behind his back, sitting on his knees on the floor. His back was turned, and B glared triumphantly at the camera as he forced the teen to suck his dick, a handful of blond hair brutally twisted and pulled. The blond was thanking his captor after he'd swallowed. Watari felt sick, Matt was sitting across the room, not watching, but unable to avoid hearing, trying not to gag or cry.

"As I have said before, I am not as stupid as you think my dear Watari." The detective pushed long hair out of his eyes, having let it grow and grow without cutting since the day he had found out that his love was missing. "You and Matt have been trying to drug me. I tasted it in the last batch. Therefore, I will not be eating a single thing you set before me. You cannot be trusted."

"For fucks sake, L, how are you any good to him if you won't care for your bloody self!" The redhead raged. He mentally kicked himself for not finding a sleeping aid that didn't lend a bitter taste to the foods he mixed it with. Watari was feeling terribly guilty for having to resort to such means, but Matt rationalized that if L didn't sleep soon, he would be dead before they got Mello home. "If you kill yourself, where's he at then? We need your mind for this."

"If Mello is able to endure such torment, then the least I can do is suffer a few sleepless nights in the name of his rescue." A few sleepless nights, read every night for over six months, aside from the very rare passing out.

"And turn that bloody thing off! I can't think. What the fuck is wrong with you, are you getting off on it or something?" Matt had always been somewhat jealous of the detective having taken his best friend away from him. Admittedly, he had begun to develop a crush on the pretty blond a few years prior, and though he was now striking a relationship up with Near who'd been helping him cope with his best friend's disappearance, he still occasionally felt the pangs of jealously.

L lunged for the tiny redhead, knocking him to the floor with a kick to his chest. It knocked the wind out of the child, but only for a second. The teen retaliated, punching L square in the face, knocking the thin detective to the floor. There was a loud crash when his arm flew out, upsetting the tea tray on a nearby table, the porcelain shattering into a million shards. His hand was bleeding profusely, but he stood back up, attacking the boy again. "Don't you ever say something like that to me again! How dare you!"

Watari tried to pull the detective off of the redheaded teen, but had to sidestep to avoid being hit himself. L had never lashed out at him before, not even in all these months, not even after the old man had tried to drug him with sleeping aids or take away his computers for an evening, locking him in a spare room while he calmed. "L! That is enough! Turn that damned video off and go to bed! Or so help me I will resort to drastic measures. We are not helping Mello, fighting like this. In fact, I think the only one of us that is remaining clear headed is Near. Now, you are going to calm down, and Matt, you as well. We are all going to have a nice rest and then we're going to approach this differently."

For once, the detective listened to Watari. Though he did not head to his room, he did turn off the computer, and apologize to Matt, before he lay on the couch, curling up and gesturing for Watari to sit at the other end. Matt turned on the handheld video game, watching the old man and his mentor for a moment before joining them. Soon Watari had two sleeping young men with their heads on either of his legs, and he found himself dozing in a sitting position. Somewhere, there was a teenage boy who desperately needed their help, but they were at all the end of their rope, about to kill themselves or each other. He only hoped the child could survive long enough for them to gather their strengths once again. The old man's guilt was soon overrode by exhaustion, and the need to comfort the two children in his lap. They could do this. They just needed a little more time. And some help.


	5. Bad Influence

A/N: Ok, so I know it's been awhile since I've posted and I'm very truly, painfully sorry but my life has been constant drama, what with the holidays as well as a family crisis or two but I think I'm on track again…Anyway, sorry for the long wait. Hope you like. Much love.

* * *

CHAPTER FIVE

BAD INFLUENCE

Beyond started to send L 'presents' on Mello's fifteenth birthday. The videos still came regularly, and they were all able to watch the boy deteriorate right before their eyes. This was more than enough, but like his mentor; the kidnapper was easily bored, even with the blond teen to keep him company. The first time, it could have been a coincidence. The first news reports came with the victim having been stabbed 'multiple times'. Then more reports flew in, mostly directed to L himself. It was only the first case as far as they knew, but it had all the trappings of a serial killer in the making.

The victim had been stabbed fifteen times. Bound and left to bleed to death. It had just been a runaway, a vagrant, his system full of various drugs. He had been male, small for his age, which was guessed to be somewhere between around thirteen to fifteen years old. L remembered once when the kidnapper had come to him, exclaiming happy birthday, and did he want to know how many more he had. The significance was not lost on the detective. The child that had been killed was blond; blue eyed, and almost definitely the same age as his Mello.

The next victim was similar, around the same age, though this time his eyes had been more green than blue, and his hair had been bleached blond. This victim had belonged to someone. The detective and his young investigation team had watched the news reports of his mother commanding the search party, watched her tearful tale of how he had been last seen late Sunday evening at services, had stayed behind to help some of the members tidy up the tables and chairs, fold tablecloths and put away the leftovers from pot luck. His mother had gone ahead, trusting her son to make his way home. He was such a good boy, she'd said, always so helpful, so kind to friends and strangers alike. He was a volunteer at several homeless centers, was a member of the choir. His body had been found a few miles away, stripped naked in a field. The mother appeared one last time, begging the police to find the twisted killer that had burned the shape of a cross into each of her son's palms then slowly strangled him to death as he was being…_violated_.

The ICPO had called again, wanting L's opinion when a third boy appeared with a similar profile. Near took the calls of course, since the detective was far too preoccupied with trying to contact Beyond himself. After several days, and multiple murders, he received a very short response. BB inquired as to how the detective was enjoying the show, then offered an apology for not responding sooner. It seems he had been quite busy. L waited for the rest of the message, expecting another video. He was greeted with one, but this was of two new victims, ones the police obviously hadn't seen.

They were both obviously drugged, the blond of the pair who resembled the other victims was heavily sedated, eyes fluttering open and shut as the older child stripped him. B's voice could be heard in the background, giving directions. The older child was brunette, had light blue eyes. He was fully clothed, directed to only undo the fly of his loose black jeans. He had a knife in his hand, shaking as he held it to the blonde's throat from behind him. He was begging B not to make him do this, pleading, when there was an audible click of the safety being taken off a handgun. Still the child begged, but he'd taken the blond boy's hip with one hand, pushing into him, fucking him while the child under him cried, begged him by name. They were obviously lovers, the brunette teen was whispering into his ear, telling him it was alright, he was sorry, it would be over soon. He tried to ease the process, reaching around his lover to stroke him gently, even as B ordered for him to go harder, faster, to not be such a weakling. Did he want to die? The bullet whizzed past his head, and he finally complied.

L watched in horror as the brunette was seeming to start enjoying this, despite the terrifying situation. He worked at pleasing the blond child still, but Beyond only screamed, coming towards them and taking the wrist of the hand that held the knife, helping him press the length of the blade into the child's throat. Blood welled up around the knife, but still the kidnapper held on, pressing it further. The child gasped, choked on his own blood, falling flat onto the bed. The brunette teen tried to pull out, was slapped hard by the older man. "Finish!" He commanded. The child was crying, begging, his lover needed a hospital, even though it was obviously too late. The brunette teen stopped moving, pulled out even as the barrel of the gun was pressed into his temple. Then he was begging for it to end, whispering how sorry he was to the blond. He stroked his hair, kissed the back of his neck, crying into his shoulder. The camera was dropped, and they all heard the sound of the bullet exploding out of the gun, cutting off the voice of the pleading vagrant. Then the feed went dead.

"L..." Watari laid a hand on the detective's shoulder, shaking him. "L! It's over, come now, your tears can not bring them back." L turned around, wiping tears from his face and shooting his caretaker a disgusted look.

"That could have been him! It could have been Mello!" Watari rubbed L's back, pulling him to his chest. The detective tensed. "How can you take this so lightly!" The laptop was pushed off the table, crashing onto the floor, cracked and ruined. "How can you watch that and not care!"

Matt rushed forward, cleaning up the mess of the ruined computer and wiping the surface where a cup of tea had spilled, was dripping onto the carpet. He carefully carried the equipment back to a seat on the couch, inspecting it to see if there was any hope of life again. L could get another one, but the redhead hated to see the abuse of a fine piece of machinery. Aside from that, the hours that he might spend fixing the thing would be a nice distraction, might take his mind off of what he'd just seen. "Near, sweetie, can you get my tools?" The albino kissed the redhead's cheek, uncurling from his seat to search for Matt's box of tools. His lover had been teaching him how to resurrect broken computer equipment, how to use the machinery to gain access to anything in the world. Matt wouldn't have a boyfriend that didn't understand his hobby. "Get my fags while you're at it, will you love?"

Near returned shortly, setting the various tools beside his lover, then producing a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pajama pocket. Watari glared from a distance, watching the albino place a stick into the redhead's mouth, lighting it with a suggestive smirk on his face. Matt patted the younger boy lightly on the ass, then proceeded to inspect L's damaged laptop. "Matt, have many times have I told you not to smoke in here? And you're underage!" The redhead just smiled, closing his eyes and taking a deep drag.

"Watari, do leave the child alone. He deserves his vice, after all the stress he has been through. Imagine what he would be like if he were made to witness what we just have, all while suffering the effects of nicotine withdrawal." L stood, crossing to the couch. He leaned down, meeting the redhead's eyes with his own. The boy looked up at him curiously, noting the expression that usually meant he was up to something. "As much as I do not condone underage smoking," L used his index finger and thumb to pluck the cigarette from Matt's mouth, who reached out to snatch it back, but L was too quick, already crossing the room. He placed the cigarette between his lips, sucking on it as if it were something covered in strawberry sauce. "I understand the need for it, to calm and relax the nerves. Ah, yes, I feel my mind clearing already." L spoke, tilting his head as he blew the smoke towards the ceiling.

"Whoa, I like, feel like I just walked in on you having sex or something dude." Matt smirked, then pouted at Near, who was already extracting another cigarette, lighting it like he had before. Then he lay his head in the older boy's lap, looking from him to L. Yes, it was sort of like walking in on their mentor having sex. Almost exactly. Near was reminded of his lover's need for the vice after intercourse, the thought making him squirm uncomfortably.

"Hmm, yes, the effects are similar to that of post coital bliss, as it were. Not quite as preferable, mind you, but close." It was the first time in months that L had made a joke, and though it was definitely cringe-worthy, it was nice to see the detective smile. "Watari, I'll be needing another laptop brought in here. Mine is just upstairs. I do not think it would be appropriate for me to walk down the hall with this in my hand." L took another drag, grinning evilly at his caretaker as he released the smoke through his nose. Matt was surprised. It had taken him months to be able to do that without feeling like he'd set his sinuses on fire yet L had managed with the grace of a seasoned smoker…how the hell had they missed this? Did Mello know? "While you're at it, would you mind stepping out and getting me a pack of my own. I do not think Matt will be feeling quite as generous the next time round."

"Love ya, L, but you're damn right I won't." Watari left, heading to do as ordered, much as he didn't approve. If this would help L relax, then he wouldn't complain. Though he did take the time to wonder where Matt was acquiring his own cigarettes, wondering if he ought to search the child's room for the false i.d. he had no doubt made himself. Maybe Roger was right, a school for geniuses had been a horrible idea.

* * *

It was easy enough for Beyond Birthday to pick up his victims, to draw them away from a street corner, a club, sometimes their very own homes. And up until recently, it had been simple to pick them out. His own vanity was always a factor, choosing those who shared his initials, or looked like him. He'd once thought himself rather beautiful, his pale skin, dark eyes and hair. He used to wonder why his former mentor had made comments to how unattractive he was. Now he knew.

After taking what was so rightfully his, after acquiring the precious toy that was Mihael Keehl, it was far more difficult to pick out victims. Each slash, each limb broken and torn, had always excited him, thrilled him. But now he was growing bored with these ordinary people, whose dying breaths, whose pleas and frightened expressions couldn't match those of the pretty blond he kept. With each passing day, little Mihael was coming to love him, to ask him to administer his new and exciting tortures. B's victims only screamed help, and no, stop. There was no thrill in having to drug them, have them lying limp and useless as he cut them up.

These days, he couldn't wait to finish his work and head home, to see the blond waiting for him, chained to their bed, his bright blue eyes wide with excitement as soon as he heard the older man's footsteps approaching. Beyond had abandoned all his former criteria for victims, was now treated to a young green eyed blond (close enough, damn it) hanging on his arm, babbling drug inspired nonsense quicker than the older man could process the words. The boy tripped over a crack in the sidewalk, and B instinctually caught his arm, his movements lighting fast, thanks to the martial arts training he'd learned in youth from watching L.

The blond boy smiled gratefully, standing on tiptoe to reach the face of the taller man. Even in his platform boots, buckled up nearly to his knees, his was much shorter than the murderer, and B had to further slouch to allow it. There was the other thing that perplexed the maniac, who had never before had much an interest in carnal pleasures. Before Mello, the last person that he had kissed, though unwillingly, had been L himself. The man had said nothing of it, gently pushing the slightly younger boy away and returning to his work.

Yes, Beyond had a new obsession. Once it had been L, the fates' greatest gift to mankind, the genius, the embodiment of justice itself. Few goals were more difficult to achieve than that of becoming the detective's successor. But Beyond Birthday had finally found the one thing, the ultimate prize that was better than any title. Alternately, he'd found the loophole to earning that right. If he possessed L's greatest pride than he was L himself. There was no need to wait for the older man to expire, or to kill him even. No, if he earned the love of Mello, than he was L. Because Mello loved no one other than L, never could be able to feel such affection for another human being. The boy had said it himself.

With each passing day, Beyond felt himself dying, felt the persona of L finally taking over each time Mello spoke to him. He hardly needed to kill as often these days, to feed the emptiness he felt in his own skin by bathing in blood. He used to have to take lives just to feel alive himself, but now he was not empty, was slowly filling up with every touch from Mello. He was making him whole. Now the murderer understood all those silly love poems, all those proclamations of affection he'd heard from the lips of the man he aspired to be. Mello made him feel whole. BB wondered if the detective felt it already, how he was draining him each day, scooping out his soul bit by bit and swallowing it like the sweetest strawberry jam. He could feel it, far away as he was from Wammy's House, like an invisible line cast into the older man, a hook caught up on his guts, twisted up and pulling him apart from the inside out.

"Heeeey..." Green eyes cast up to deep crimson, a hand tugging on the collar of his shirt. "Where are you...can't see you in there..." B smiled sweetly, laughed as he saw those impossibly wide pupils trying to bore into him. The eyes couldn't hold their focus, flicked left to right. He blinked, shook his head. "Your eyes..." The blond boy giggled, reminding his new friend of another teen, at home and waiting.

"What about them, love?" The boy shook his head again, the drugs muddling his thoughts. It had been almost too easy this time around, the child had indeed done most of the work for him, pardoning himself to the nightclub's bathroom before they left, coming back several minutes later sniffling and hazy eyed. Beyond could barely stomach this type; they took the fun out of the hunt. Not that his work was all that satisfying any more anyway. "Are you alright?"

"Hmm? Oh. Yes. Very very good." The child took his hand, leading him down a darkened alleyway, pushing him against the wall, chilly fingers running up his shirt already. "You're so hot, you know. Much nicer than the other guys in there too."

BB had noticed this one before, avoiding him due to a reputation he'd heard whispered by some older men at the bar. There was a fair chance that this one was sick, though the rumor had yet to be proved positive. Beyond pulled a few bills out of his pocket, holding them up for the child to see. But the teen pushed his hand away, already dropping to his knees in the alley. Bless the fates, there were all kinds of sharp instruments on the ground, broken bottles, abandoned needles. The teen had been about to kneel on one of these, was quickly yanked up to his feet again. "Careful, love."

"Oh...thank you!" The teenager threw his arms around the older man's neck, forcing him yet again to stoop even lower. This one might be shorter than Mello, though it had been quite awhile since he'd seen his favorite toy stand for more than a few seconds. "That's why you don't have to pay. You're so nice." The boy kissed him, and BB had to force himself not to spit in disgust at the taste of the liquor and cigarettes on the child's breath. One of the few traits that he had not had to force upon himself was his taste for sweets and fruits, and he despised anything bitter. A few reports of the bodies he'd left behind had come to his attention in the newspapers, and he was quite disappointed to see himself dubbed as the mysterious cannibal of the area. Yes, he had taken a few souvenirs, but he most certainly did not normally consume them. He adored the taste of blood, possibly as much as his sweets, but human flesh had a greasy, almost salty texture, and was quite unpleasant. His reasons for taking back spare pieces was simply a scientific fascination, a hobby not unlike that of collecting puzzles or fine china. "Can we go to your place now?"

The green-eyed boy was shivering in his skimpy outfit of leather pants and fishnet shirt. Beyond himself was quite comfortable in his usual attire, and loved the cool air. He ran a hand up a goosebump-covered forearm, delighting when the teenager shivered in pleasure from such a small touch. He'd thought that the boy had only taken some cocaine, noticing his rapidly changing thoughts and excited gestures, but changed his mind now. He must have taken one of those lovely club drugs, the sort that made touching anywhere feel erotic, that made it so very easy for these foolish children to be prayed upon. It was his own fault.

BB stayed silent, letting the child kiss him again. The teen's eyes fluttered shut when the older man gripped a handful of his hair. He went limp at that small touch, and for a moment the murderer thought he was about to black out, had taken too large a dose of the drugs. The brunette spun the child around quickly, pressing his face into the brick wall, pulling bony arms behind the teen's back, holding both wrists in one hand. The boy moaned loudly, encouraging. He was so caught up in his drug induced haze that he didn't notice the sound of a bottle shattering, made no move to get away until a shard was pressed into his throat.

"Oh please don't stop now, angel." Beyond pressed himself against the boy's back, immobilizing him and letting him know just how well the attempt to struggle was pleasing him. His fantasies were out of control these days, and though he'd much rather be at home with Mello, he needed to get this out in case he lost the will to stop himself. It would be so easy to keep going, to draw the glass shard over a different throat, to lose himself in the gurgling noise of someone choking on their own blood. He had to keep taking victims, because he wanted to have Mello forever, but he was so pretty each time he cried out in a mix of pain and pleasure, that sometimes B wanted to keep going, to push the teen's body past it's limits.

Warm blood spilled over his hand, the thick shard cutting into his own hand as he pushed it, getting caught on the bone. The boy was dead of course, as disappointing as that was. He'd gone without much of a fight, had practically asked to be killed when he just stood there, limp, his arms hanging at his sides, his slight weight held up only by the murderer's arm around his waist. Many before him had tried harder, had fought enough to give their attacker that release he felt during their futile attempts.

Only Mello had lived through it all, had been able to please B without the need for a death. The brunette let the teen fall, smeared the blood on his lips, licking each finger clean. Yes, Mihael tasted better than this, but he needed these victims to keep control of himself, needed this vice to prevent him from going too far. He almost felt guilty, seeing this as an act of adultery, but his Mello loved him too much to be angered at the indiscretion.

The body would be found only hours later, reported by a couple from the same nightclub who'd ventured into the wrong dead end. B would be curled around his captive lover, sated and able to sleep like he never had before. Hours later, he would wake the blond; tell him that he was venturing out for breakfast, stopping at a newsstand to see the report. He would sing to himself, taking quick strides back to their love nest, needing to have the teen again after seeing the image of the dead child in the alley.

* * *

'Vampire Killer', 'Perverted Cannibal', the headlines would read, the articles droning on for pages and pages, suggesting everything from a lover's quarrel, to a political cover-up, to a real life monster roaming the streets, preying on little boys, drinking their blood and eating their flesh. Of course the ICPO had called again, asking about Kira's involvement. L actually wrenched the phone out of Near's grip when he heard this, calling them all complete useless idiots before hanging up.

"L, you don't think..." Matt couldn't quite bring himself to finish the sentence, but the face in the full color picture that L held out before him was eerily familiar, though the clothing and the setting was nothing he would expect to see his friend in.

"It is times like these that I wonder if Matt is really deserving of his position as my successor." L pointed to the photo, letting the redhead get a better glimpse before he continued on. "The victim is obviously several inches shorter than our Mello. His nose is wider, lips narrower. This does not look a thing like him. Anyway..." L pushed a plate of untouched sweets across his desk, shoving a stack of newspapers onto the floor. Finally, the mouse was uncovered and he brought up the newest of videos that the kidnapper had sent, the time stamp reading early that morning. Mello was alive, though unconscious.

"L...I'm sorry to have to say this, but I'm sure you noticed it by now as well. There's a pattern here. The killings are getting more and more frequent and my mistake only further proves how much closer in appearance they're getting. I..." The detective had been more on edge than anyone else lately, his eating habits getting worse, his temper flaring at anyone that dared even step in his way. Just the day before, a younger student had accidentally bumped into him, and with only a look the child had turned and jogged away in tears. L was barely speaking unless it was about the case, and he'd even been getting cross with Watari lately. So as Matt stuttered out his observations he made sure to keep as much distance as possible.

It wasn't L that responded, but Near. He'd been quiet throughout most of this, taking his duty of L's replacement very seriously and doing what he could to keep everyone else calm. They may not have realized it, but inside he was more than a little worried about his rival. It wasn't as if he _cared_ about Mello, but he did care about Matt and L, and he knew that if the blond wasn't brought home soon than neither might recover. "I do not believe that BB intends to kill Mello. There is plenty of evidence against that theory. Matt believes that our fallen colleague is working up the courage to kill our Mello, that is correct?"

Matt nodded, then hung his head low. Even with his goggles firmly in place he did not dare to direct his gaze at either L or his boyfriend. Near took the redhead's hand, squeezing it gently, then placing it on his knee. Matt seemed to take great comfort in their physical closeness, especially lately. It made the albino feel very special to be the sole person that could do this and now that he'd discovered it he was unable to stop. Matt smiled, moving closer and leaning against the younger boy. "You think Mello's different from the others?"

"Yes. Firstly, BB has never hesitated to inflict violence when he felt the desire, so if he planned on killing Mello, he would have already done so. Aside from that, it is obvious that he feels some kind of affection for him, that he might even believe he is in love with him. Furthermore, it is plain that Beyond Birthday desires to replace L, and that the relationship with Mello is a large part of what makes L who he is. BB plans to make Mello his own. Instead of forcing Mello to stay, he has managed to convince him that it is what Mello wants. I believe that the murders are a way of keeping himself from submitting to his appetite for violence, to keep him from going too far with his prisoner. We have seen the way B reacts when administering acts of violence to Mello. It is like a drug to him." It was difficult for even the albino to state these facts, though they must be obvious to at least one other person in the room. Even Near felt the bile rising in his throat, choking it down while he tried to comfort the redhead by rubbing the back of his neck and squeezing his hand tighter.

Matt looked nervously to L, wondering if he planned on attacking the albino as he had the older teen. Near's statements had made a lot of sense, though it wasn't much easier to hear than if he had said the exact opposite. At least Mello was still alive, but was he even worth saving at this point? Near had said it himself, BB was trying to _break_ him, and from the looks of the most recent tapes, the job was almost finished. "Near is correct. Beyond will not kill Mello, because I would risk anything and everything, I would give up my own life to keep him with me. However, the psychological violence will continue. As strong as he is, I am not certain that Mello's mind will endure much longer. If he is not returned to us soon, I am afraid that there might not be any hope left."

It was the first time that L had admitted what they'd all known. They'd all been thinking it, that Mello might return as he was now, so submissive that he wouldn't even speak without permission. There was barely a hint of his old personality left. For once, when Watari came to lay a hand on L's shoulder he said nothing. The old man always knew what to say, to comfort them even during the most insignificant trials, but he appeared to finally be at a loss for words. Matt only ever said the wrong thing, the meaning coming out a complete opposite of how he'd meant, so the redhead also remained quiet. Again it was the albino who spoke. "Beyond Birthday will not be allowed to take Mello from us. We will bring him home." Near was a habitual liar, and though this was probably no different, they all wanted to believe him. "Such an injustice will not be permitted. B has forfeited his right to walk free. If I must catch him myself, he will be brought to justice."

Near's gray eyes sparkled with excitement, his boyfriend knowing that the look was reserved for when the albino concentrated on a difficult case and was winning, when he bragged to the ICPO about single handedly doing their job for them. The look said that there was nothing to worry about, that the good guys were indeed going to win. No, not the good guys, just Near. The smile always made the redhead think that the albino was dangerously balanced on just this side of the 'good side', that he might be capable of some truly scary deeds if it weren't for the careful guidance of Wammy's. But then again, the hacker had probably just read too many comic books. Looking at Near again, who lay on his back, making a toy airplane soar over his head (sound effects included), the idea that the albino was anything other than totally innocent seemed sort of silly.

* * *

Mello awoke to an oddly familiar sound, and for a moment he was more than a little frightened. It had been so long since he'd heard this that he couldn't believe his ears, was wondering if maybe he'd missed a dose of medicine, or if he'd overslept again. L was always scolding him for sleeping too much; it wasn't good for his mind he said. Dreams could be dangerous things he said, after one night the blond had related one of his to the detective. He'd been dreaming of a strange room filled with forbidden books, one of the many computers in the room clicking and beeping, a redheaded boy cheering occasionally. Matt, he knew. Mello had thought this boy to be his friend, but L had said that he was no friend. Matt, as well as the other children at the orphanage were too cowardly to help in the fight of their pursuer, had all but abandoned the lovers for dead when they'd gone on the run from Beyond Birthday.

The blond realized that he was not dreaming, that in fact the noise that he heard was very real, and coming closer. L was singing! He hadn't done that in ages. Before these terrible trials had begun, L often hummed to himself while he showered or worked, and had even learned a few hymns in Latin to entertain his lover. It was one of these he sang now, though Mello remembered his voice being softer, cracking a little on the higher notes. The singing was growing louder and louder, almost deafening by the time the brunette sat on the edge of the bed.

"Hi baby." The detective had been gone for the better part of an evening, and when they kissed he could taste bitter cigarette smoke and...was that liquor as well? The blond had no right to accuse, but could not help uttering his shock when they parted. "Were you drinking?"

"I am quite surprised that Mello would even suggest such a thing. He should know better." The older man laid a hand on the teen's cheek, and left a smudge of blood there, which he licked off immediately, making the blond sigh contentedly. Every touch from his lover was intoxicating. If only they could stay connected every waking moment then the teen imagined that he would never need his medicine again. These few touches left him with a rapidly beating heart, had him squirming against his restraints.

The brunette reached into his jacket pocket, extracting the broken piece of glass that he'd kept as a souvenir. The blood had dried on the edges of the shard, turning a sickly shade of deep brown. He held the neck of the broken bottle, dragging the sharpened edge over the blonde's bare chest. Mello hissed in pain, cried out. Then when his lover leaned down to lick it away he shivered, struggling even more against his restraints. He felt the sudden impulse to hold his lover's head there, to keep the lips that sucked at the wound clamped to his sweaty skin for as long as possible. It was moments like this that he actually disliked his cuffs, when he would have given anything to have his hands free to encourage the attention.

Mello had just noticed a cut on his lover's hand, still bleeding as he caressed the freshly trimmed blond locks that had been mussed from lying in bed all evening. "You're hurt! Oh my god, L, are you alright?"

"Shh. Don't worry love, it's all over now. I was...attacked, but was able to defend myself." The blonde's eyes widened, every muscle in his thin body tensing in fear. Could it have been _him_? God, please, anyone but him. If he found them it was all over, he would take L from him. He would destroy the only thing that mattered in the whole world to the teenager. "There's nothing to worry about. It was not Beyond Birthday." Mello cringed at the name. To even speak the words was like calling the devil himself, would surely have him materializing before his eyes. The blond was not allowed to say those words, never was he to even think of the man. To do so made L scared, and when L was scared he quickly grew angry. Mello did not want his lover to be angry with him. He would be punished for it. Mello wanted to be a good boy for L, always.

Another cut was made on Mello's chest, the brunette dragging his index finger through it, then laying it against the teen's lips. Mello sucked gratefully at the gift, already anticipating where this might lead. L was so good to him, he was going to make love to him, to remind him that he was here and he was all right. "Please don't ever leave me L. I love you."

"There is no reason to fear. Mello is mine." Mello lifted his hips as the brunette's hand went between his legs, was surprised when the older man only pushed his thighs further apart, crawling between them and pushing his dick in without the slightest bit of preparation. The blond bit his lip, trying not to make any noise. L must have had a very bad night indeed, as he was already angrily thrusting into the teenager, was placing a hand around his throat. Of course it had to be done this way, they needed to remind each other that they were still here, the threat of B closing in on them every day. There was no better way for this than to make love right now, needless preparation would only delay what they both had to have right now.

As Mello began to lose consciousness again he heard that wonderful phrase muttered over and over again, and despite the pain and lack of oxygen, it could not have felt better. He wanted to thank L for this, to tell him how good it felt, though the hand around his neck only squeezed tighter when he tried. It was all right, he thought before he blacked out, L already knew.


	6. You Kiss By The Book

A/N: I am so sorry for the delay. I got a little side-tracked but I think I'm good now. Hopefully no more interruptions!

Anyway - A break from the drama. This chapter was written to brighten your spirits as well as give you a look into the beginning of L and Mello's relationship. I'm planning to have more chapters like this thrown in along the way – enjoy!

CHAPTER SIX

YOU KISS BY THE BOOK

"No, Mihael, you're not listening!" The young Lawliet whined, holding a hand out to help the little blond back up. It had been a simple move, and the six year old had messed it up _again_. The younger ones were easier to teach, L himself had begun to learn at their age. He was supposed to be instructing a class of his age group, but had quickly grown frustrated with their attitudes. They didn't want to learn his brand of martial arts; they wanted to go play football. That sport was boring, and how could it help them in real life? Not that the sixteen year old Lawliet had much use for Capoiera, other than to remain fit and keep from being bored, but Watari had said long ago that it would come in handy one day.

"B-but, L! Look!" The small blond pointed to his knee, the scrape was deep and had some pebbles stuck in it. Lawliet rolled his eyes, using the sleeve of his t-shirt to wipe the blood off, then carefully picking the rocks out. He was suddenly glad that his other successors had refused his offer. Mihael was more than enough to keep him busy, all forty pounds of him. "Ouch! If you're going to be so mean, I'm not playing with you any more!" Mihael crossed his arms over his chest, pouting as the older boy picked at a particularly stubborn pebble imbedded in his knee.

"We're not _playing_ Mihael. I'm teaching you valuable skills that will be highly useful in your adult life." Mihael sat on the grass, slapping the older boy's hand away when he began to inspect the other knee. The brunette hauled him back up, shooting him a stern look. "Look, if you do this, I know where we can get some nice chocolate cake later. Ok?"

The small blond perked up, jumped up and down. Then his face fell again, and he held out his hand, fist closed except for the smallest finger. "Pinky promise? If you're lying to me, I get to break it." The little detective sighed, grasping the six year old's pinky with his own. "Ok! But it better be the good kind. Not that store bought crap. And with chocolate sprinkles too!"

Lawliet nodded, then crouched in a defensive stance. "Ok, just like me. You see?" The little blond copied the movement exactly. "Alright, see how it looks like you're sort of off balance, Mihael?" The child nodded, already wobbling in the strange position. "That's a good thing. That's what you want them to think." Quick as lightning, the little detective twisted his body, using his hands to support all his weight as he kicked out behind him. "Now you try."

Mihael did as instructed, trying to remember all the steps that his mentor had gone through to complete the action. It had been too fast for his eyes, and admittedly he'd been thinking about the treat he'd been promised instead of his instructions. He tried anyway, pouting when he twisted the wrong way, his arm getting caught under him as he fell sideways. The momentum of the short fall caused him to roll a foot away, landing on his back. His elbow stung, and he began to cry. "You meanie! That didn't work!"

The detective ran towards the child, lifting him up in his arms, holding him one handed while he stroked the soft blond hair. He'd had to help the little boy bathe this morning, because last time Watari had gotten soap in his eyes, and he had not trusted him since. It had taken several days to get him to even look at a full bathtub, and still he ran from the room shrieking in that awful high-pitched tone that only little boys could do. "It's not _my_ fault. Mihael did it wrong." The blond was sobbing against his shoulder now, dampening his clean t-shirt. "I don't think Mihael deserves his treat anymore. He was obviously not paying attention to his lessons on purpose." The six-year-old bit the teenager's shoulder, making the cutest little growling noise as he did so. Then he let go, still sobbing. "Ok! I lied! I want some too anyway."

By the time they'd arrived at the kitchen, the six year old had fallen asleep in L's arms. L informed the chef that two plates were to be brought to the playroom, extra frosting and sprinkles for both. And fresh strawberries too. And some ice cream. Maybe a few cherries…

* * *

L was almost twenty years old. It just wasn't fair; he had been out of England for almost three months now, helping on a case in America. The police there were so stubborn, so ungrateful, that they demanded he reside in the country while they worked. They'd met with Watari multiple times, yet were still not satisfied that L would not appear himself. Finally the detective cut off all communication with the bastards, personally firing them from the case and solving it himself in a matter of days. He'd left without another word, after receiving in invitation for an event held in his honor. He might have appeared, but they'd sent a menu of what was to be served, and he saw not a single dessert on it.

The young detective arrived at the orphanage at almost two in the morning, sneaking first off to the kitchen to raid the fridge, since Watari had kindly called ahead to demand that something be left for him. The sweet shops had all been closed, and Wammy's employed a lovely pastry chef, just for L. He picked out a few cupcakes, brewed a cup of tea, then headed to the library to read until morning. He'd always been a bit of a night owl, and with all the small children running around it was impossible to find peace in his favorite room during the daytime hours.

L flicked on a single lamp, heading towards _his_ chair that had been set at the back of the room, by a large window that let the moonlight in, casting pretty shadows on the rows upon rows of literature. There was his pile of blankets to curl up with, a pillow to place under his back. He'd almost sat on the little lump that was a nine year old Mihael, when the blankets began to shake. "What in the bloody hell..."

A blond head popped out, sharp blue eyes already wide and alert at the interruption. "Just who the fuck do you think you are - oops, shit, umm, I mean, hi L!" The little boy covered his mouth, waiting to be scolded for the curses. The detective just laughed, picking up the boy and placing him on his lap as he sat back down. "You're back early!"

"Mihael should be in bed." The detective pulled a book from under himself, just noticing that he'd sat on whatever the child was reading. "Isn't this a tad advanced for someone Mihael's age?" The detective threw the book to the floor, holding out the one that he'd picked.

"Shh, L. That's not my name anymore. Don't you know we all had to pick new ones this year? Mail-err, Matt, picked mine, I'm Mello now. No 'w'. M-E-L-L-O." The nine year old took the book from L, raising an eyebrow and wrinkling his nose. "Poems? That's boring."

"It most certainly is not." The detective smiled, ruffling the blond hair. It is much more age appropriate for Mih- ah, Mello, than that tiresome physics textbook that put him to sleep." The detective began to read, and Mello laid his head in his lap, watching to see if L noticed when he stuck a thumb in his mouth, slowly lulled back to sleep by L's deep voice.

_/There is a place where the sidewalk ends and before the street begins, and there the grass grows soft and white, and there the sun burns crimson bright, and there the moon-bird rests from his flight to cool in the peppermint wind./_

The detective stopped to take a bite from his treat, waiting for Mello to whine, to ask him to continue. But the blond was already sound asleep, thumb tucked in his mouth, his small body curled into a fetal position in L's lap. He had to place a hand on the child's legs to keep him from sliding down his own thin limbs. Mello shivered, and the detective laid a blanket over him, watching in fascination as he, still sleeping, pulled it completely over his head. Mello had always been a quirky child, and this was just another adorable thing to add to the list of his strange behaviors. The detective was guiltily growing a fondness for this one that rivaled his affection for the others. Mello was so brilliant, but also so full of character, so sweet. He couldn't understand what Roger's problem was with him. Yes, he had a bit of a temper, but so had L at that age. It would surely get better soon. And right now, he just looked so sweet and innocent, L hated that he fought so hard to become his successor. His rival had a bitter coldness to his personality, would not be ruined by the trials of the job. Mello was so sensitive, so quick to tears, that L was sure all the bastards that he was forced to associate with would ruin this part of him. If only this one could be kept innocent forever, kept this small, safe from the outside world. L was already ruined, so bored with his life, so sick of having to deal with the horrible acts that human beings committed against their enemies and loved ones alike.

The blond child had slept soundly for a while, but was slowly beginning to mutter in his sleep. Then his voice grew louder, angry, and L heard 'Near', soon deducing that he was speaking to Nate River. The detective was given regular updates on the children's scores, and Nate was consistently just a few points ahead of Mello. They'd had verbal and physical confrontations on orphanage grounds, usually worse when L was away. Mello's little fist was beating against his thigh, and his voice shook with the beginnings of angry sobs. L shook him awake, finally unable to stand it. "Mihael!"

"Hmm?" The little boy rubbed his eyes, and when he felt the wet trails on his cheeks he tried to hop from L's lap, but was quickly caught, pulled close. "Let me go, please, L. I've gotta go to bed. Tired."

The detective sighed, wishing that he could just sit here and comfort the blond. But that wouldn't do any good; he'd just fall asleep and have another nightmare anyway. Roger had mentioned that the boy didn't look as if he was getting enough sleep. He studied so hard, always coming up just a little too short. "I was thinking I might help Mello study. Would he like that?" Bright blue eyes widened, and Mello's mouth opened in a wide grin.

"Really?" The nine year old sat up, wrapping his arms around L's neck. "Like, really? That would be so great! Are you sure? You don't have to."

"Of course. I would like nothing better than to do so." The little blond hugged tighter, then hopped down to retrieve his textbook and writing utensils. "I'm so stuck. That brat Near...uh, you know, Nate, thinks this is so easy. I just don't get it."

"That's just because Mello has not been given the proper instruction. I am an excellent tutor."

The next week, Mello found himself on the top spot for several days, and he thanked L by bringing him a plate full of cupcakes he'd made himself. They tasted terrible, the child had obviously forgotten some ingredient, but for the first time, L did not complain about a sweet thing not being perfectly tailored to his finicky taste buds. He ate them, watching the little boy bounce around the room, expressing the pride he felt at returning L's favor. The joy on that face was worth choking down a dozen lousy pastries.

* * *

L was able to keep the secret that Mello was indeed his favorite for many years. He was able to pay the child some special attention, to become friends even, without much complaint from his other successors. Sure, there were a few children who taunted Mello about being the favored pupil, made suggestive jokes even. But neither of them paid much attention to it, and neither Matt or Near seemed to have much of a problem.

At first it felt strange to find someone ten years younger than him who understood him so well, who seemed to match his intellect. Mello could even be a challenge some days, when he opposed a theory or plan, and was proved to be correct over the great detective. Well, three great detectives actually. But of course L wasn't bragging.

Mello was twelve years old, when the detective noticed that their friendship was taking an odd turn. He'd arrive home, and as usual the blond would bound out of the doors, run up to him and pounce as soon as he'd stepped out of the car. But just after his twelfth birthday, the hugs would last a little longer; the blond would lean in closer, pressing them together. L had caught the child breathing in deeply during one such display, and realized that he was smelling his hair. L did think this was somewhat odd, but he had been eating chocolate, and Mello had the habit of being able to sniff that out. Poor Watari would be jumped soon too, he'd thought, his pockets patted down for any special treats he might have brought back from whatever country they'd been in. But Mello didn't go to Watari, instead taking L's hand and dragging him inside. As the detective tried to keep the pace, he felt Mello's palm sweating, saw him glance nervously in the older man's direction, then quickly turn away just as a blush crept onto his face. But Mello had always been odd, that was part of his...charm.

Just a few weeks later, it had happened. The proof that something more than friendship was developing. At least in the blonde's mind. Mello had been called to L's room, where the detective had been awake for three days straight, working on a particularly difficult case. He barely acknowledged the blonde's presence, so wrapped up in his work. Then Mello was standing beside him, quietly reading over his shoulder. He'd nearly forgotten that he'd promised to help Mello with an assignment for his literature class.

"Hi L. I brought cake. And coffee. What are you working on?" The detective jumped, embarrassed at not having heard the teen creep up on him. Then there were treats set in front of him, a book tossed into his lap. Romeo and Juliet – one of his favorites. He couldn't help himself; he'd always been a sucker for the romance of their forbidden love. "You ready? I have to practice so I can recite this in class tomorrow with Matt. Fucker's too busy playing video games but he never has to worry about this shit. It's not fair, you know? That someone so lazy was blessed with a photographic memory. He could be putting it to far better use if you ask me…"

"Well, that's what I'm here for. Which part shall I read?" the detective asked, climbing out of his chair. Mello scowled. "What's the matter?"

"Matt's making me be Juliet…But that's okay. I'm just mature enough to be more comfortable with my sexuality…" L thought he could see Mello's cheeks flush pink but only for a second. His sexuality? Did that mean…

"Mello, are you a homosexual?" he asked before he even knew he was going to. It was rude, and certainly none of his business but L had never been very in tune with what was concerned to be 'socially acceptable'. This time Mello did blush, bright red as he turned his eyes away. At first, L thought the boy would deny it, then he shrugged, wrapping his skinny arms around himself.

"Does that bother you?" he asked timidly, looking up to the detective, eyes begging for approval. The last thing the blond wanted was to make his mentor disgusted with him.

L shook his head and smiled behind his thumb, opening the book to a page that had been marked. "No, it does not bother me at all. Have I ever struck you as the type to alienate another being for something so petty? I thought you knew me better than that by now…"

Mello's face positively lit up, his confidence returning immediately. "I do know you better than that."

"Good. Now lets begin."

They read through the text together, perfecting the lines, getting more and more lost in the story, until they'd set the books aside, both unaware of the scene that was rapidly approaching. The scene at the party in which the lovers share their first kiss.

L stepped forward until there were mere inches between them. "If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss."

If the two had been thinking clearly, they would have realized that this was a very good place to stop but Mello continued, staring up into the older man's eyes. "Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.

"Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?"

"Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.

"O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; they pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair."

"Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake." L stopped, his breath catching in his throat, unable to look away. He scolded himself for allowing his mind to get so carried away and meant to continue with the dialect but then soft lips were pressed against his own, Mello's hand coming to rest on his cheek, until his own hand came up to hold the back of the blonde's head. This was new, and strange, and so very inappropriate. Unfortunately, it felt better than anything he'd ever experienced in his twenty-two years, and the detective's mouth was falling open. Mello sucked on his bottom lip, teeth just barely scraping it before it was released. Then there was a new sensation, and the blonde's tongue was in his mouth, sliding over his own. The boy mirrored him, his own hands tangling in the nest of jet-black hair, tugging gently as they kissed.

"Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take. Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged."

Finally, Mello pulled away, breathless, staring deeply into his eyes, smiling gently. L couldn't help himself, wanted to feel it again. "Then have my lips the sin that they have took."

"Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again." This time, it was L who initiated the kiss, pulling Mello closer than before. It was deeper, more intense, teeth clicking together as tongues fought for dominance. It wasn't until he felt the blonde's arousal pressed against his thigh, until he felt the blood rushing to his dick that he realized just what he was doing and pushed the younger boy away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as if it would erase his sins.

"You kiss by the book," Mello whispered, still smiling, then he noticed that the detective was not at all pleased and his heart sank. "What's wron-"

"That- that was...it was highly inappropriate Mello!" The blond reached for him, but the detective moved away, almost falling when he backed into his chair. "No, that can not happen again, Mello. It can not!" L had backed away, almost to the door, the blond slowly following. "Mello!"

"You liked it. I could tell." Mello smirked, winked. "I could feel it. Couldn't you?" The teen was pressed up against the older man, the brunette's back to the wall.

"Yes...I mean, no! No, I think Mello needs to leave." The blonde's face fell as he stepped away, shuffling towards the door. He looked so much older, still dressed as always, though his jeans hugged his thin hips a little more, and when he raised his arm, the t-shirt that was becoming too small for his increased height rode up just a little, showing off a tanned stomach, leanly muscled from playing football and practicing the marital arts L had taught him years ago.

"Please forgive me. I thought you liked it. I'm sorry, don't be mad." L wasn't, he realized. He'd liked it very much. But Mello was just a child, and he was an adult. Also, he was the boy's mentor, practically his father figure, at the very least, an older brother. That last thought brought his resolve out full force, and the detective pointed at the door.

"Mello is not the first to develop romantic feelings towards a figure of authority, and Mello is very young. It is only natural, but I will not allow it to happen again. It is very inappropriate. Does Mello want to ruin our friendship? Does he want one of us to be thrown out of this establishment? There would be terrible consequences if such a thing were to be allowed. I have known Mello since he was a small child, I am ten years his senior. It is not to happen again. It is very, very wrong." The teen blinked back tears, slammed the door when he left. L slid down the wall, laid his head on his knees. What the hell had just happened? And why did he feel so badly for throwing the child out? The poor thing was so upset. He wished he could just comfort him, apologize for raising his voice. But those feelings had to be discouraged. Especially since they'd felt so very nice.

_No_! What was he thinking? Didn't he remember Mello as a baby, bathing him and dressing him? Hadn't he sung him to sleep, read him bedtime stories? Oh dear god, L was a pervert. No, he was sexually frustrated and that teenage boy looked several years older than he really was. L had never considered it before, even at his age, but he realized that he must be homosexual, which was the reason he'd yet to find a nice girl to distract him. Still, that was no excuse for his body's behavior. L looked into his lap, pointed at his traitorous anatomy. "No." He simply stated, banging the back of his head on the wall when it didn't work. "No." Still nothing. What did normal people do to make this go away? Oh, yes, that. L had always been too busy to take care of things like sleep, or his body's sexual needs. There, that must be the problem. His stomach always got all the attention, what about everything else? But just as L thought to do just that, the image of the blond teen popped into his head. He could still feel his lips against his own. "Pervert." He said aloud. Ah, there, it had been scared away. "Good man."

* * *

Mello had always been a strong willed individual, determined, stubborn. He and his mentor shared that in their personalities, but Mello was also more friendly, social, and affectionate. These attributes would no doubt give him the resolve to continue pursuing the detective. L avoided him for several days, finally showing up on neutral territory. They were all in the playroom after classes, Near with his toys, Matt with a video game, and Mello curled up in a chair, studying as usual. L wandered around, speaking to some of the smaller children for a while, still avoiding conversation with his successors. Once in a while he'd glance in the blonde's direction, catch him watching, but the boy would quickly look away.

Finally, L took a seat, saying hello to his three favorites. Near pushed a pile of puzzle pieces in his direction, quietly working on his own. Matt moved closer, pausing his game and showing L the little character and the new secret weapon he'd unlocked from his high score. Mello still wasn't speaking to him, and he wondered if it was intentional, or the book was really that interesting. Usually nothing could keep the second in line from paying him attention, and L had to admit to himself that he was a little disappointed.

"Hello Mello." They couldn't ignore each other forever. First of all, it would be immature. Secondly, they were still friends, and the detective would hate to lose that. Mello set his book aside, stretching out, t-shirt riding high on his stomach. He reached to scratch the exposed flesh, a small smile on his full lips. He'd thrown a leg over the arm of the chair, caught up his book again.

"Hey L." Silence again, for almost an hour. Near's puzzle was finally completed, except for one centerpiece, which was suspiciously missing. L already knew where it was, but was not about to retrieve it. The albino had probably left his toy unattended for only a moment, maybe going to the bathroom or getting a glass of water.

"Mello has stolen it." The albino accused, his tone flat and emotionless. There was the sound of chocolate snapping between the blonde's teeth, and the other three looked at him. He smirked, sucking on the piece that dangled halfway out of his mouth.

"Bullshit. It isn't my fault Near is a flake. He's probably sitting on it." Mello turned a page; both legs now resting on one arm of the chair, head on the other. He'd set his chocolate aside, was still licking his lips to get the last bits off. Every morsel was precious. L watched his hand rest on his stomach, reminded of how wonderful that hand had felt against his cheek, how soft his skin was. The hand smoothed over his belly, running back and forth. L wet his lips, quickly looking away. This was so very, very wrong. He should go.

"L will retrieve it for me." Near commanded. He was dead wrong. He had no idea, but he was definitely mistaken. There was no way in hell the detective was going over there. No fucking way. "Please?"

"Yeah, L, Near's too much of a pussy to get it himself." The blond turned, sticking his tongue out. Near mimicked the gesture, but it went unnoticed, the older boy already going back to his book.

"I said that Mello had it. He has just admitted it." L had been told about the fights that broke out between Near and Mello lately, how they had turned quite violent. Was the younger boy scared of Mello? If so, he might have to speak to the blond on his behalf. This was not fair to Near. Of course he did tend to instigate fights, to taunt Mello as much as Mello threatened him, it wasn't right for the older boy to use his size and strength against the albino. L would just have to get this over with, retrieve the stolen toy. How bad could it be, after all, they were in a well-populated room, Mello couldn't try anything. And why was the detective suddenly worried about what a twelve-year-old was going to do to him? He was a grown man! He could control himself, could certainly handle the blonde's advances with dignity.

"Yeah, and?" That was it. Mello would not be allowed to continue behaving this way. L shuffled over, holding out a hand and waiting patiently for the child to turn his attention back to him. Mello smirked, innocently blinking, those long blond lashes framing bright blue eyes that sparkled with mischief. Watari said this habit was similar to one L had had at that age, before he'd become jaded and stopped being 'cute'. If only Mello would stay this way forever.

"Fine." Mello tapped one of the front pockets of his jeans, then went back to reading. L just stared in horror, looking back to see if Near and Matt were watching. Maybe he could get the redhead to...wait, he didn't have to do anything. Mello was going to hand it back, damn it.

"Mello, give me the piece. Now." Mello smirked again, flipping a page, biting his bottom lip to keep from breaking into full out hysterical laughter. The detective had never looked so flustered. Mello had been depressed for days, when he'd thought that the feelings he'd developed wouldn't be returned. L had been so mad, had hurt him so deeply when he threw him out. Mello would never admit it, not even to himself, but he'd been purposefully pissing everyone off that stood in his path for days, was doing just that now. Anything that might even ruffle another just a bit was fair game. Near was such a baby; he might actually start crying soon. Well, all right, probably not, but the blond liked to imagine that he would anyway.

"Nope. Don't got it." L glared, sighed in frustration. Neither of the two had expected it when the older man reached into the blonde's pocket and extracted...nothing. "I told you." L was past being embarrassed for the moment, checking the other pocket. Still nothing. He pulled the blond up from his seat, holding him by the shoulders and attempting to appear authoritative, but just looking a bit flustered and nervous.

"Tickle him L!" Matt cried out, pausing his game to watch the much more interesting one between Mello and L. The blond had been a bitch to everyone lately, it would serve him right. "His ribs are real bad. He'll tell. I swear."

The detective had just been about to warn Matt to stay out of this, when the blond wrapped his arms around himself, his cheeks turning bright red. Oh. That was sort of adorable. L managed to get his hands under those skinny arms, poking the ribs that protruded on the thin frame, making the blond giggle and fall to his knees. L didn't let go, until Mello was kicking and crying out for him to please stop, he'd tell, he was sorry. L waited patiently, satisfied that he'd won, though trying not to notice the slight sway of the teenager's hips as he made his way back to the stand where his book had been left, flipping through the pages and extracting the puzzle piece. "Matt, you'll fucking pay for that one you little twat."

The piece was placed in L's upturned palm, the blonde's hand lingering there for just a few seconds too long. L felt his pulse speed up, felt that jolt of electricity that was supposed to be a romance novel myth travel up his arm. "Thank you, Mello." The blond winked, already going to sprawl out on his chair again. The two were both blushing deeply, and of all people, Near had to notice.

"Mello and L are quite out of shape, if such little physical activity causes them to flush so."

* * *

The trouble with Mello was that if he was anything, it was persistent. That was a nice way of putting it actually, persistent being the word L always used to correct the professors and the caretakers of Wammy's when other words were used. The descriptions ran from the 'troublesome', which Roger spoke through gritted teeth, tugging at what little hair was left on his head, tapping his fingers nervously on his desk. The professors had had to be reprimanded a number of times when less appropriate words were used, the ever popular 'monster', 'terror', 'brat', 'demon' and the like. Many had left their positions due to the tiny blond, or at least requested that he not be allowed within ten feet of them.

L did not have the luxury of being able to distance himself from the boy, not that he would have even if he could. Despite his efforts to discourage the feelings that had developed on both sides, Mello made it nigh impossible to ignore him.

It was L's fault of course, and he damn well knew it. Deny it as he liked, he'd felt himself give in to the little touches here and there, to respond with a shiver, a blush on his pale cheek. Mello would giggle as he brushed against him in the hall, his hand just barely brushing over the loose denim at the back of the detective's thigh, his hip nudging the older man's own. Then he'd be gone in a flash of tight black clothing and bouncing blond hair.

When the detective couldn't stand it anymore, when they met alone in the hall and Mello pushed him up against the wall, just within reach of the door handle, where if L could just get a hold on it and turn, to escape inside then he'd be safe from the reactions that were damning him despite the words he spoke.

"Mello must stop this. It is inappropriate." L grabbed the blonde's wrist, saving himself from the palm that had been laying against his stomach, and even though the cotton of his t-shirt he could feel how warm the teen's skin was, could feel the muscles in his stomach tighten as he felt those claws digging in an effort to not be denied.

"Why?" Mello whispered, standing on tiptoe to brush their cheeks together, to breathe against the bare skin of L's neck. "Give me one good reason."

"I have given Mello several very good reasons." The detective's hand tightened around Mello's wrist. He glared at the teen, when Mello finally moved away from breathing against his throat. L was by no means a frightening man, and though he could more than hold his own in a physical fight, though he was indeed stronger than he looked, he rarely ever had to resort to using his strength to win the upper hand. But the look that the teen returned forced him to loosen his hold, to let his head hang and hair fall in his eyes, not to shield the emotions warring there now, but to keep from seeing the hurt in Mello's eyes.

"If you don't want me, just fucking say so. Don't play with me!" Mello backed up a few paces, and immediately L relaxed, just now noticing that he'd been standing to his full height. Reclaiming his usual posture helped to clear his head, helped him to shake the feeling that he was at fault yet again.

"I have denied every advance that Mello has made, yet he still persists. I would never dream of playing with one's affections. I have made it perfectly clear that I will not allow anything more to come of our relationship than friendship." Mello's fists clenched at his side. He squeezed his eyes shut, and when they slowly opened back up he did nothing to brush away the frustrated tears that fell.

"There's a difference, and you fucking know it! You say no, but the way you /react/ L, I can't take it! I know how you feel about me, I can practically taste your pulse speed up when I touch your hand, I see how you look at me. Like it or not, you're attracted to me." The blond screeched, the noise reminding the older man of when he'd been just a baby, when it had been bath time and he hadn't wanted to get in, or when he'd been denied his favorite chocolate treat due to bad behavior. It was that noise that showed just how young he was, the high-pitched shriek of a boy, not a man. "Oh, but I'm so stupid, aren't I? I thought you could look past my age, I know you're intelligent enough to know that our minds are on an even level, that we're more than just our physical ages. And you would, but that isn't the problem is it? It's just /me/. I'm not good enough. How could I ever have thought that I was anyway? You're L, and I'm just a stupid kid that's in your way."

"Mello is anything but stupid. He misunderstands me." L tried to reach out, to touch the blonde's shoulder. His hand was shrugged away, and though he desperately wanted to pull Mello close, to comfort him as he had always done when Mello was upset and only L knew how to make it better. No candy would work, no sweet words. What Mello wanted, and what no one else could give, was just to be held, to be shown that he was special, that he wasn't just another runner up, that he was a person. A person that L admired very much, that he cared about maybe too deeply.

It was that more than anything that made the detective hold back, because he knew that Mello sought him out for that which was missing. If not a father figure exactly, Mello wanted someone who had experienced what he had and gotten past it, who was older and wiser and knew that while it might not be ok, at least someone else /understood/.

"No, I get it just fine, thanks." Again L wished that he could hide from the look in Mello's eyes, because the expression that had replaced the anger, the pain, was far worse. The thing that the detective respected most about Mello, while also driving him insane, was his persistence. He never gave up on anything he desired, could do whatever he put his mind to, even if it meant that it might come close to destroying him. So to see the defeat there, the decision to just give up, was by far the hardest thing to see. It wasn't the expression Mello wore when Near again beat him in scores, or when he lost a soccer match. There was always a hint of hope there, the stubborn self-assurance that next time he'd do better. No, this was the face of a boy, no, a man, who was just tired and giving in. Mello looked years past his age now, like he'd just finally seen the world for what it was and in an instant had had to grow up and leave behind the hopes and dreams that only children could keep.

L hated himself then, not for what he was about to do, but for what he had done. Despite how miserable Mello looked as he pulled a shield of blankness around him, as his eyes set to stone and his shoulders slumped, the detective knew that he would have to remain firm. He could not give in, not even when all he wanted to do was make that go away, to confess how he really felt even though he knew it was wrong. He had to stop this before it spiraled out of control.

"I am sorry, Mello." And he was, sorry that he wasn't stronger, sorry that for once he was letting his feelings guide him instead of his instincts, his knowledge that placing a hand on the back of Mello's neck and pulling him close was wrong. L regretted that even though his mind knew how perverse this was, that he was pressing his lips against the teen's, that his mouth was falling open and their tongues were colliding as instinct took over.

Mello's arms remained limp at his sides, until the detective took one and pulled it around him, then Mello's other arm was flung around his neck and they were pressed close enough together that when Mello rose on tip-toe they could feel each other's hearts beating in their chests.

It lasted until both were out of breath and had to pull away, and even then the blond still clung to the older man. "I'm not." He whispered, touching L's cheek before spinning on his heels and fleeing down the hall.

What had he done? Just what happened, and why could he still taste the teen on his lips? Why did it still feel like he had two heartbeats and they were both about to stop?


	7. Business Proposition

A/N: Two posts in one day to make up for my laziness. WARNING: There is at least one VERY disturbing scene in this chapter. Like, seriously fucked up…but I have a feeling some of you wont mind. Read at your own risk.

CHAPTER 7

BUSINESS PROPOSITION

"It's L! L's speaking to Kira! It's being broadcast on every channel!" The video feed was being repeated hourly, in the squares of all major cities, in the private living rooms of every home across the country. Japan was the first to receive it, as the suspicion over the serial killer's whereabouts still centered in that region, but soon all the countries would be receiving the news live.

Light Yagami had casually walked home from his college courses, upset that he had been with the one teacher who refused to switch on the broadcast, to let the students out early for the event. It would be on all day, she'd said, and she personally was in no mood to have it darken her classroom. The teen was hoping to dig up something heinous about the woman, so he could add her name to his death note. Of course, merely opposing god was surely a crime in itself. However, that was not as important as the latest challenge that L was no doubt setting for him. Time to play games, again. How immature.

When the teen finally made it home, he took the time to kiss his mother, to look over Sayu's homework before heading to his room. It was only half past the hour; the feed would be on again soon enough. "Light, are you going to come back down for supper? I hope you aren't planning to lock yourself in your room all night dear; your father is coming home early. He'd like to have a nice family dinner for once." His mother called as he made his way upstairs. He agreed that he would, knowing that no doubt his father would have even more insight on what L was doing. The task force had been corresponding with the detective for quite awhile, though he was still refusing to appear before them.

Light turned on the television, casually writing a few names down while he watched the evening news. There was a counter at the bottom of the screen, in just five more minutes L would address him personally, in front of the entire world. He was ready, tapping his pen on the desk, merrily humming a tune that had been stuck in his head all afternoon while periodically tossing apples to Ryuk, who was chuckling to himself in-between munching.

The video came on, L's huge black symbol taking up the space inside the blank white screen. "Kira, I have a proposition for you. No doubt an offer you will not be able to refuse." _Bring it on_, the teen thought. "First, please watch closely. I apologize to the general public for what you are about to view. It is no doubt deeply disturbing to you all, and I ask that you please guide younger children, and those with weak stomachs away from any monitors." The screen went black for a moment, then the events unfolding in startling color. It was difficult to make out the scene at first, but thankfully after a few minutes, a light was turned on in a nearly bare bedroom. There was very thin, very obviously naked blond child on his knees, hands cuffed behind his back. Light counted several large bleeding wounds, at the hands, the feet, one in the stomach. The five wounds of Christ. Where was L going with this?

Light's mouth opened in shock, and even Ryuk seemed to be a little confused and disturbed over what happened next. Light was old enough to have seen such things in magazines, on the Internet, acted out in movies, but still could not believe that he was watching unedited, explicit sex live on television. It didn't end there. There was another scene, the blond boy being tied up, made to perform sex acts in-between being beaten and cut, was then violently raped. Another scene, this time the child asked his captor to hurt him, to make him bleed, to cut him and burn him and then..._'fuck'_ him. The feed went on for nearly half an hour, showing clips of unbelievably heinous acts. Now the boy was bent over a table, a choke chain meant for training a dog tightened around his neck while the man leaned over him. Light watched as blood dripped down the child's thighs, as he screamed 'no, stop', then later, 'yes, please, again'. It seemed that the kid was enjoying the torture, more so with each new scene. But brilliant Light Yagami knew the word for this - Stockholm Syndrome, or some form of it at least.

Finally, when Light thought that he might become physically ill, when even _Ryuk_ was gagging and had put down his apple, the video went back to the black and white symbol of the greatest detective the world had ever known. His scrambled voice was back, addressing Kira himself. "The videos you have just watched were sent to myself over the period of one year and nearly four months, each coming on the first of the month. In two weeks, the teenager that you watched on the monitor just now will be sixteen. If you do not care to do the math, I will say that this means when he disappeared, when the rape, the torture, and the psychological abuse started, he was merely fourteen-years-old. His name is Mello, and he is a very important to me. In fact, he was in my care when a man that he should have been able to trust, that he saw nearly every day growing up, kidnapped him. The man that committed these crimes is Beyond Birthday. I know that this name is strange, but it is the one he was given at birth. He would not have suspected that you would ever see his face, or know learn his identity; so he was foolish enough to frequently let his face appear on camera. I am going to make a deal with you, Kira. This cat and mouse game that has been going on between us will end, I will throw in the proverbial towel on the case, if you do this for me…I want Beyond Birthday _dead_. I do not care how it is done, but he must die for what he has done."

An image flashed again, a freeze frame of the kidnapper's face in vivid detail. L spelled out the name slowly. "I will remind you again, this man, this _Beyond Birthday_, has physically and psychologically tortured an innocent person, a teenage boy who has never committed a single evil act in his life. Who has strong Catholic convictions, as you can see by the rosary that he wore around his neck in the earlier videos, by the cross that was cruelly displayed on the wall opposite the bed that he's been chained to. For more than a year, Mello has been tied down, left nude and wounded. The only times he has been let up were to suffer new unspeakable acts at the hand of a man who watched him grow from an infant, who was in fact a professor of sorts to him. The only thing that Beyond Birthday has taught him over the last year and several months is how to become the perfect slave, used for depraved sexual acts and sick games. He's been tortured the point where his mind has broken down and he has come to believe that he wants these acts to continue. The damage may be irreversible, but I want him returned to me safely and I want that bastard dead for what he has done. I admit that I myself have not been able to find him and exact revenge, so I am left with beseeching you to do this for me. If you kill Beyond Birthday, I will give up my pursuit and leave you to do your work in peace. This is a one-time offer, Kira. These videos will continue being broadcast for one week, in hopes that they reach you. You will have no longer than that to respond. If in that time I receive no answer, then I will be forced to suspect that you are not righteous in your work of destroying evildoers, and will continue my case against you. But I have faith that you will find this as punishable as I, and that you will do what is right by ending this boy's suffering. I want him home, and I want him home now. The world will be a better place without Beyond Birthday in it."

The news came back, recapping what had transpired and apologized to viewers for it's graphic nature. The newscaster said that they did not condone what was viewed, but had no choice in broadcasting it. Normally, Light would have expected this to be untrue, the media loved violence and tragedy, but it had been L who sent it, so there probably really wasn't a choice. It was well known that the detective did whatever he pleased, especially after that little Lind L. Tailor stunt.

Light was shocked, but felt a surge of pride for being enlisted to assist the great detective. Maybe he really did side with Kira, and only now just figured it out, since a crime had struck him personally. Light couldn't guess exactly what this Mello meant to him, maybe he was his child? It made him think of his own parents, how painful it would be for them should anything like this happen to himself or Sayu. But whatever the case, it didn't matter. He would do this, because the world would be a better place without the kind of man that had done these terrible things. This was exactly the kind of message he was trying to send out. He would punish those who hurt others and protect those who were unable to protect themselves. It could have been anyone who Beyond Birthday had kidnapped, he just happened to pick someone close to the great L. He would have to thank the man for the opportunity. This kind of publicity could only be good for his cause, to show everyone that supporting Kira was the right decision, that he would not let them down. Justice would always be served.

"Ryuk, this is going to be a long night." First things first, the teacher who had ruined Light's afternoon was disposed of. What a disgusting bitch, not caring for that poor innocent soul that suffered. He could have avoided a few more hours of pain and torture if she had just let Kira do his holy work. Ryuk giggled manically as he watched the woman's name being written in the book, then left to find another apple. He wouldn't watch Light do his work; he wanted to wait for it to happen in real time. Maybe he would even find this Beyond Birthday and get front row seats.

Humans were so…_interesting_.

* * *

Mello's birthday was coming up soon; he knew this because L kept reminding him that he had special plans for it. Just 14 days to wait, then he could have his present. He wondered what it might be, a new collar perhaps? A new toy? Another mark? God, L loved him so much.

"Hey baby..." Mello called, his voice low and hopefully sounding as seductive as he was attempting. L had been gone for hours, again, and he'd been waiting so patiently, missing him so much but L was a busy man and he was just lucky to have him whenever he could.

"Not now...just...not now." Beyond paced the room, feeling that there was something, what he didn't know, but _something_ nipping at his heels with each step he took. "Goddamn it, shut up!" The brunette raged, throwing a stack of books off the computer desk, searching for the cord to the camera whose red light still blinked though he was sure it'd been shut off. It taunted him, he could hear it taunting him, could almost see those damned panda bear eyes watching in fascination from the other end of the feed. "It doesn't matter anyway." Beyond laughed, bracing himself with palms against the desk as his laughter grew and he had to take deep breaths to keep from hyperventilating. "Of course, it doesn't matter. You can't do anything. You're there, and I'm here with /him/ and he's mine so watch all you want. Do you like what you see? Hmm? I hope so, I know I do."

"L, are you alright?" Mello tugged at the cuffs on his wrist, hissing in both pain and pleasure, hoping it would get the detective's attention. The brunette did turn, smile widening, crossing the room in a quick stride, grabbing the blonde's chin and kissing him roughly, biting his lip until he felt skin breaking. "Mmmm, more? Please? You don't look so good baby, why don't you just lay down with me? I can make you feel better." The teen shifted, trying with what little mobility he had to shake the thin sheet off his chest, exposing the bruises and cuts and deeper marks that showed who he belonged to.

It felt so good to have L close again, each time he left was harder and when he came back he was always more upset than the last time. That was ok, because Mello was here to help take the pain away, to absorb it into himself in any way necessary. It was all right as long as he could help but just this morning L had done something that the little blond still couldn't think about without shedding worried tears. The brunette had brought out a knife, placing it against the blonde's throat until Mello all but stopped breathing, waiting for the sting and then the comforting kisses that would be placed over the new wound. But instead L had taken the blade to himself, once on each wrist, then sat at the foot of the bed and stared at the flow for a long time until letting out a frustrated cry and ripping his white shirt into shreds, wrapping pieces of cloth around the cuts and storming out.

"Just...be quiet love. I need to concentrate. Can't you hear it? Can't you hear him? He might be just outside, he's waiting and he's so close. He's coming for us." Mello shook; wriggling again in his restraints because despite how he was supposed to remain this way he desperately wanted to get up and hold his lover, to pet his hair and tell him it was all right. It had been so long since the last time he had been allowed to do that, way back before they were running from the monster that wanted to separate them, when Wammy's was still safe without traitors within.

"I don't hear anything. Baby, you're just stressed. It's ok, come lay down with me. I'll make you feel better. You can fuck me and you'll feel so much better." The blond purred. The brunette reached for the sheet, began peeling it down the now emaciated body of his little captive, but his hand stopped when body hips were exposed, when the feeling of cool air on his exposed dick made Mello moan and write more.

"No, of course you don't. Of course." Beyond stood, shuffling away from the bed only to turn around and wonder why he wasn't just taking the gorgeous teen, wasn't throwing the sheet off and fucking him until he bled. His was such a rich, bright color, was sweeter and damn it the boy could bleed forever and not pass out, not give up. He'd just beg for more. But there was no time; it felt like, no time to enjoy himself. There was _something_ right on his tail, he could feel it breathing down his neck, feather light touches on the bare skin. It was cold, colder than him even. It was a challenge; a creature more evil than him was coming to take away his prize. "No! I fucking earned it and you can't have it." Of course Mello could not see or hear it, it wasn't L that lurked in the shadows, waiting to catch him off guard. It was something bigger and badder than that, greater than L but certainly not greater than Beyond Birthday.

"L, just come back. Baby I'm worried about you." The blond pleaded, but the brunette was already stalking out of the room, heading down the hall until he was far enough away not to hear the teen crying any more.

* * *

There was more furniture in here, comfortable chairs to curl up and read in, a big bed with dozens of pillows and blankets. Just like the great L, he had a bit of a weak spot for finery. Raised by an older English gentleman, who was already independently wealthy before either man came into his care, they had been given everything a spoiled prodigy could possibly want, so it was really the fault of their care taker that the geniuses had a weakness for material possessions like antique porcelain tea sets, or fine Egyptian cotton.

Beyond laughed as he flopped onto the bed, ignoring a flash of black wings in the corner of the room. Ah, let the monster stalk him; let him see just how much bigger a terror the human was in comparison. The kidnapper, or murderer, depending on whom you asked, curled up in the soft white sheets, kicking at a lump at the foot of the bed. It had once looked like something other than meat, a petite boy dressed in a lacy skirt and high heels, picked up off some street corner, and what a gentleman he'd been to offer her some tea. 'She' had giggled, sipping the tea with stockinged legs crossed at the ankles, not bothering to ask why he wasn't joining.

Soon he'd been swaying in the seat, fanning himself with a gloved hand. B hand walked behind the boy, hands first on shoulders then slipping to unbutton the top and remove it, then carrying his latest victim to the bed. Immobile, mind off wherever the drugs had taken him, the prostitute had been placed so gently on the bed, and B was whispering such kind words when he began to take the lovely body apart, piece-by-piece. Pity it had choked on its tongue before he could finish the work. But as much fun as it was to play with them alive, the bodies were just as fascinating, and now all that was left was a few tufts of cotton candy pink hair, some shreds of red and black lace, the rest of it too covered in gore to be recognizable.

The murderer lifted the edge of the sheet, inspecting his work yet again. Maybe it could be kept for another night or two before it began the stench became too much. That was always the only downside to bringing the playthings home, it was harder to throw them away when it came time.

"You won't have that long." A raspy voice whispered, sounding like the man was swallowing shards of glass and enjoying it immensely. Beyond sat up, eyes darting around the room until he spotted it, then shook his head and looked away. No. No no no.

"The door was locked. It is terribly rude to enter a locked door without knocking first. Go away. I do not have time for you." Beyond waved the creature away, glaring at it's yellow eyes and hoping that it recognized the pretty gift he'd been given at birth, the eyes that saw everything, though there were no numbers or words above this..._thing's_ head.

"Ah, so you can see me. Isn't that interesting. Well, I hope you don't mind company. I've come for the show." This time the dark haired human didn't respond, which annoyed the shinigami Ryuk but not enough for him to leave. This was going to be one hell of a show, Light had promised. The shinigami never bothered to read what his companion wrote in the notebook, because that just ruined the surprise. He was so cunning, and if the young man had promised that this would be the best yet then it would no doubt be worth the wait. There was still time left, but the kitchen had some lovely apples, enough to supply him through the finale.

It wasn't there. Just a figment of his nervous imagination. Nervous? Over what? "Oh, shut up you." B scolded himself, hearing a cackle that rivaled his own. Jealously welled up so the brunette returned the eerie sound with a deep giggle that turned into riotous laughter. He bent over, slapping his knee and wiping tears from his eyes. Ah, that felt better. Yes, now that he'd made it apparent who was the winner of this little game, he went about removing the sheets and poking at the body. His hands covered in congealed blood, he amused himself by leaving red handprints over his white shirt.

"This is getting boring." Ryuk stated loudly, narrowing his eyes when the brunette only tensed for a second before going back to playing with the body. The shinigami had hoped for more of a reaction, especially when he flapped his wings noisily before disappearing through the wall.

Beyond began to sing to himself as he stripped out of his stained shirt, tossing it with the discarded clothes of his victim. He went back to shoving his hands into the mess and covering his chest and arms with it, like it was that sweet strawberry soap he used in the bath. The murderer licked at his fingers, trying to get every last bit on his tongue and down his throat, succeeding in causing a secondary reaction to satisfying his craving.

He couldn't help but have the nagging feeling that he was forgetting something, that he should be somewhere, when the brunette tugged the loose denim off his hips and stepped out of the jeans before laying on his back. Some more of the blood served in another purpose, as his hand went around his dick and still his mind wandered. The wonderful thing about being a genius was the ability to multitask, to solve problems and riddles that would be driving the average folk mad, and still be able to perform more interesting tasks simultaneously.

The nagging feeling grew when the sound of wings returned, a bored sigh from _right_ behind him. That voice, that horrible nagging voice that kept whispering awful things. "Get out..." The brunette growled, sitting up and grasping the knife that still lay next to the dead body, pointing the six inch blade at the skeletal figure that now tilted it's head and stared with confused clownish features.

"Humans are so disgusting. Pathetic really. But you're not quite like the rest, are you? You're...special." Ryuk laughed, biting his apple in half and chewing twice before swallowing several large chunks at once. "Pity, not for much longer. Doesn't it bother you? Hmm? To look in the mirror and be the only one that has no expiration date. Heh heh. That's ok, I could tell you the exact moment if you like."

"Oh, but I can. L Lawliet is not to die for quite some time." He'd taken Mello, taken the thing that made L who he was, so Beyond Birthday had already expired. He was L now, the world's three greatest detectives and possibly the most brilliant man alive. And he had such a pretty lover, tied up and waiting for him. Now if only his eyes and ears would stop playing tricks on him long enough to get back to the lovely blond teen and properly enjoy his company. "Now go back the way you came. This is between the two of us and I will not share."

Ryuk took a look at the pile of meat and bone; it was starting to stink, reminding him of home. Yuck. The shinigami took another bite of the apple, munching loudly and getting bits on the corner of his lip and in the black feathers of his wings. "Whatever you say." Ryuk tilted his eyes toward the clock, smirked, then began to float away. "Tick tock. Tick tock." He chanted over and over, voice carrying long after he'd made his way back to the basket of apples. He could have as many as he wanted, there'd be plenty more at the Yagami house, as promised for the delivery he'd soon be making.

With the distraction gone, Beyond paced the room in annoyance for some time, waiting for the irritation to subside so he could get back to...relaxing. Time ticked by, and the murderer decided that the best way to help organize his thoughts would be to replay some home movies.

Ah, that was better, the volume up high as it could go, drowning out the sound of the real live version of Mello crying somewhere in the house with this version begging him for more. Beyond was able to keep his full attention on the video, one hand back between his legs. All had been perfect until the antique clock down the hall began to chime, signaling the start of a new day. Then the overwhelming need came to stand up, to rummage through the messy drawers of his desk for paper and pen.

Just what the hell was he doing? Beyond grit his teeth as his hand carefully scrawled out the address of his hideout, seemingly of it's own will. "I know where I am, I need no reminder, thank you very much." Still he gripped the pen, each letter and number done carefully so there would be no mistaking them. "Why should we care if they're legible? Who in the bloody hell is going to read them?" But of course there was no answer, because he was alone, at least in the room. As he folded the paper and tucked it in an envelope there was a loud crash in the kitchen.

There, that was done. The nagging feeling was getting better already. Beyond smiled, taking a place back in the bed, thinking he'd just lay down for a bit and enjoy the soft sheets and a cooling body that he could just barely poke with his bare toes. He was not going to ponder what he'd just done, or why he had done it. He was perfectly in control, of course.

That sensation of his arm being tugged, like a string was wrapped around it when it lay over the six inch blade, it wasn't really there. It did not exist. He chose to do it, yes. BB liked knives, like how the metal shined and how skin and bone parted with the skilled movements of his hands. He liked to just hold them, test the weight and listen to the instrument tell all it's stories of the places it had been, the people it had maimed and killed.

Oh, and the blade liked him too, he thought as he dragged the tip down the center of his chest, crossing and uncrossing his legs before giving up and taking his cock in his other hand. It had been so long since he was able to do this alone, so wrapped up in his new prize that there was really no need for masturbation. But, oh, the blade felt good against his skin, and it knew the pretty blond in the other bedroom so well. It had left its marks; it had helped him make not so shallow cuts in the boy's wrists and throat, across his belly and on the inside of his thighs. Yes, he remembered each time fondly, and so did the blade.

As much as the brunette did enjoy a little pain, he hissed when the blade dug into a hip, but his hand still slid up and down his erection and he took a moment to use some of his own fresh blood to lubricate his hand before continuing. Of course that had been intentional, he thought, even when it pressed in further and he wondered why all the commands to stop and retreat weren't making it from his brain to his arm.

He was going to kill that bastard; this had to be L's fault somehow. Beyond raged, screamed when his hand fell away from his dick, when the blade came to press against the tip and was harshly dragged down to the base. Blood was already flowing out and staining the sheets, covering his hips and belly and all he could do was lay there. His legs wouldn't move, his free hand wouldn't move, he couldn't squirm or turn over or fucking get up and run out of the room.

Even when he did move it wasn't his decision to make, all he could do was chant no, and bastard, and ask who the hell was doing this to him and did they know how much they were going to pay for it? His legs spread wide, each knee bending slightly and his ass was up off the bed now, exposed to the tip of the blade that was positioned dangerously close like a patient lover. The sharp end pressed ever so slightly against the sensitive skin, already making a cut but that wasn't enough. Tears stung his eyes, he screamed, he looked anywhere but down because that knife, that six inches of expertly sharpened, beautiful blade that was his favorite, was now edging it's way into him. And though he'd never once been fucked in his life, though the muscles resisted and he screamed more the sharpened silver kept pushing past, deeper until it was halfway in and he looked just in time to see it draw back out and it was like a faucet had been turned on.

Surely the room was going to completely fill with the blood, and shouldn't that be enough, and oh how was he going to even get up, let alone survive this. He stubbornly refused to believe this was happening, though even his eyes weren't under his control any more, watching the blade plunge back into him faster, back out, in and twisting as if it were searching for something. He was getting weak, both from the blood loss and the sheer disgust of being forced to watch as his own hand, _his own fucking hand_, plunged the blade in harder, and finally it was buried up to the hilt but then his body did what it was wired to do and everything began to go black around the edges. His final thoughts were hazy and disconnected, and still he fought to not die, not like this, and not because it was humiliating and hurt but because he had to surpass L. He was so fucking close to destroying the bastard. B had to win, had to become L, it was what he was meant to do and someone had cheated, but at least he couldn't feel it anymore and when he woke up and could /get up/ he would...

Ryuk had known the time was coming when he heard the clock chime, because the numbers above the human's head, the human gifted with the eyes but no notebook, were rapidly dropping last he saw the man. Unfortunately, he had underestimated just how...creative Light was capable of being when he really set his twisted little mind to it. "I'll say it again, humans are disgusting." The shinigami floated away, making sure to retrieve the envelope, taking one more glance at the bed in time to watch red eyes roll up into the back of Beyond Birthday's equally twisted head. The body spasmed once or twice more, then went completely limp as the numbers stopped dropping and finally disappeared.

The man was dead, Light had given his little gift to L and Ryuk was tying up the loose ends before heading to the Yagami house for his bag of apples. Light owed him, he had gone above and beyond the call of duty this time, delivering damned envelopes and having to see naked humans and...Ryuk groaned. That genius brat was getting to be annoyingly demanding, but still interesting. Very, very interesting.

* * *

Ryuk had made one stop between the hideout of Beyond Birthday and the home of the Yagami's. The poor shinigami had had to fly for quite some time to reach a large secluded building in England. What a dark, dreary place, he'd thought, as he delivered the letter to the front doorstep like Light had requested. He was amazed that the Light hadn't asked him to reveal the location, not that he would have. It wasn't fair. And what fun would it be if the teen didn't have to work for it?

Watari had found the letter outside, rushed it into L's office. He had already seen the broadcast several times, and was so far ignoring the calls from Interpol. Even Near was refusing to take responsibility to intercept the calls. That would be L's problem. He had not done it. Though it found it somewhat creative, it was indeed disturbing. And slightly unethical, though if it served the purpose, he supposed it could be fixed later. Finding Mello was top priority.

"Would you like me to read it? It is probably some kind of threat. I still cannot believe you, L. What were you thinking?" The letter was snatched from his grasp, and L read silently as Matt, Near, and Watari looked over his shoulder. It was not a world leader, or Interpol, but a response from a self-appointed god, though in the unmistakable handwriting of another.

/L, I must admit that I was shocked when I first received your message, but like you said, my morals could not let me resist in aiding you, even considering the amount of trouble you have given me in the past. I take your asking for my assistance as a great compliment, and to thank you for including me, I have done you one better than you asked by including the address of your friend's whereabouts so he may be found as quickly as possible and given adequate medical attention.

You will find Beyond Birthday in a rather messy state; I think that you will be quite pleased to know that he suffered a long and painful death as suitable punishment for his crimes. I assure you that your friend did not have to witness a moment of it, and is safe in a bed awaiting your arrival. I hope that he finds the peace he deserves, though it will no doubt be a long road.

It pleases me to see that you have changed your mind about my methods of creating a new world, and dearly hope that we might be able to work together again soon. I have a deep respect for you and for the work you do. It would give me great pleasure to meet you in person, and perhaps even work at your side. My regards and best wishes to you and yours.

Your partner in making this dark world a better place for the innocent,

Kira. /

"Watari, ready the car. He isn't more than an hour's drive away. I need five minutes. Near, you'll be staying here, and are going to put out this message for me. Matt, you're not going either. Get to work on preparing all of Mello's favorite foods, remove any case information from my bedroom, and talk to the children. No one is to breathe a word about any of this in his presence. I expect the both of you to be ready to greet him when he arrives, if he wishes to appear."

Near went to work at setting up L's recorder and voice changer, then sat with his redheaded boyfriend to plan how to address the children next. The gossip had not ended for the entire year, and now that everyone had seen L's last message, there were of course mixed feelings. Some of them were angry or scared that L had given up so much information, others were cheering him on, still others were doing their best to ignore it all.

L began his message to Kira, carefully choosing his words so as not to upset future plans.

/Kira, I must thank you from the bottom of my heart for what you have done. As this message is being broadcast, the rescue is underway, and I am more than grateful for your aid. I owe more to you than you may ever realize.

I shall also take this time to accept your offer, and look forward to meeting you in person soon. Further arrangements will be made for contact, if you would be so kind as to see to the details of setting up such a meeting. I have great confidence in your skills and intelligence, and know that you will be as careful and discreet as possible. We put both of our safeties at risk in doing so, but I believe that such an arrangement will be highly beneficial to us both. My thanks again.

Sincerely,

L./

"L, you're fucking crazy." The response was more likely to come from Matt, but it had indeed come from the usually quiet Near at his side. It had been the first time the detective had heard him curse, and it made the man smile. Maybe the little one had some fire in him at all. Possibly that was in thanks to his new-found relationship with the redheaded teenager.

"Yes, yes, I am well aware. Now stop snuggling and get to work."

Watari and L brought only one other person with them. Though Matt had begged to go, he had been refused, and instead one of the live-in nurses from Wammy's House was brought along, though made to stay in the car. L would not have even allowed Watari inside, but the old man reasoned that Mello might have a fit, or at least not be able to walk on his own, so the detective would need assistance. The real reason behind the caretaker's insistence was that he didn't trust L to be able to handle the situation alone. Mello would no doubt look much worse in person than he did on camera. It might be too much for the detective to deal with all at once, and he would need the emotional support.

The only accessible door was in the room just ahead of where Beyond had died. L was smiling evilly as he saw the body, and went to go check on it, but was pulled away by his caretaker. "Mello first. There will be time later."

"I was just going to kick it. Once, for good measure." Watari nodded, but lead the detective on. The old man desperately wanted to have a go at the body himself, but remained calm. They could come back for the body later, and possibly both have a chance at it. He nervously suspected that the detective might ask to have the head kept as a prize, or something equally disturbing.

Mello was just in the next room, though the form was hard to make out in the dim light, they could already hear his excited voice from the bed. "L! You're back!" There was a cough, and the light was turned on in time for the older men to see the teen leaning his head over the side of the bed, throwing up on the floor. "Do you have my medicine?" The blond whimpered, struggling against his restraints. "Can I have it yet, please? I'm sick again."

The detective went to work on removing the handcuffs, frowning at the abrasions on the blonde's wrists. There were several spots that had been rubbed raw to bleeding, deep scarring underneath that. He had seen it all in the videos, but it was indeed worse in person. "Soon, my love, soon. Please hold still." As soon as the detective spoke, the boy went stone still, staring up at him with pleading blue eyes. There were dark circles under them, not so much from lack of sleep, but of eyeliner that hadn't been washed away before he'd slept. It made his beautiful almond eyes stand out all the more, gave his features a much more innocent look, causing him to seem several years younger and terrified. L helped the boy stand, holding back angry tears when his thin legs struggled to hold his nearly weightless form upright. The detective barely managed to catch him as he crumpled to the floor. "Where are your clothes?" he asked.

"I'm ok. I'm not cold. I just need my medicine. It's been so long I'm shaking. I'm really sick. Can I have it now please?" Watari had fetched the black leather pants, the vest from a nearby chair, frowning at both but handed them to the detective. They would have to do for now. L had to lay Mello back on the bed to get the pants on, which were still unbelievably tight even though he looked thinner than he ever had, and the boy just laid there like a rag doll, allowing himself to be dressed up like one of the Barbie's some of the younger girls at the orphanage were so fond of. As the older man helped his love into the vest, he saw the track marks and was almost sick himself.

Of course. Medicine. That's what he'd meant. Beyond had been giving him drugs to keep him quiet, he'd seen that himself. His lover was no doubt experiencing the symptoms of withdrawal. They'd have to deal with that later.

"Just as soon as we get you to the doctors, you can have your medicine, alright love?" The blond threw his arms around the detective's neck then, unbalancing him, so that he fell on top of the teen on the bed.

"No! I won't go!" he shouted. "You're going to leave me there! Please don't leave me. I'll be good. I'm sorry I asked for my medicine. I know better. Ok?" L lifted the child by placing one arm under his knees, and one under his back. He could feel every bone, desperately wanted to give the boy a chocolate bar right then. He couldn't wait to bring Mello home just so he could feed him.

"I'm not leaving you. I'll be right there the whole time. I can't fix what's wrong with you though, you need a proper physician." The child looked skeptical, and squirmed in L's arms. "Mello, hold still." Again, the command was immediately heeded without another question. The boy had been treated like a slave for over a year, and was exhibiting the signs of a very good submissive. L felt sick. "I think I may need a doctor too," he added as a side note, more to himself but Mello pouted.

"Oh. Ok. My poor baby." The blond laid his head against his shoulder, closing his eyes for a moment. "Is this ok?" The detective responded in the affirmative, and Mello let himself be carried out of the room.

Unfortunately, there was only one way to exit, so that meant that they had to again go through the room where Beyond's body lay, surrounded by a pool of blood and intestine, a pen still clasped in one hand. Ah, so Kira had controlled B into writing that note, as had been suspected. It was disturbing, but for the time being it had served the purpose. "Keep your eyes closed beautiful."

It had been too late for the command; Mello had already seen the body. He looked from L, to the body, then back again. He was struggling in the detective's arms, screaming. "Oh my god! L! Who are you? What have you done? What's going on?" The blond shrieked, falling from the detective's arms to the ground, practically crawling towards the body. He was crying! "Oh, L. You monsters! Who are you?"

"I am L. That, is Beyond Birthday." The blond shrank back, scrambling back towards the detective, clinging to his legs, still crying and screaming.

"Y-you killed him? So, he found us. Oh god. Oh, thank god you're all right L! Are you a-alright? Did he h-hurt you? Is that why we're going to the doctor?" The stench of cooling death, blood and _internal organs_ was making itself known. It smelled like a slaughterhouse in the room, and Watari held a handkerchief to his mouth and nose, trying to rush them along.

"Yes, Mello. Come on, now, we must go. We do not need to waste any more time on him. He is dead, and he will not bother us anymore." The blond went limp then, and it took a few seconds for the two older men to realize that he had passed out. No doubt the shock of seeing the body on top of the lack of his 'medicine' was making him quite ill.

They were able to carry him out; to make the entire trip back to Wammy's without him so much as stirring. L held him in his lap the entire drive, would not even let the nurse touch him, practically snarling at the woman like a rabid dog, until she slapped him, snapping him out of it. He had been petting the _blond hair_, crying and shaking, and whispering that it was ok, that he was sorry, that everything would be all right, and if he could, he would resurrect the bastard just to kill him again himself. No one would ever hurt Mello again, because he was L's, and no one came between L Lawliet and that which he cared for.


	8. READ THIS IF YOU'RE WONDERING WHAT'S UP

Thank you all for the wonderful reviews. I loved working on this story, sadly I don't see myself finishing it any time soon. In fact, for the time that I'd "disappeared" from the stories I've been writing are all bandfic (the band "Brand New" or "Taking Back Sunday" as well as a little MCR- interested in reading? contact me) so it's been very hard to get back into the manga/anime routine.

However, I see myself returning with (most likely) the L/Mello pairing or Matt/Mello. I mostly write to entertain myself or my sister (which is why I've been writing bandfic lately since that's where our interests were). In the next couple weeks I'll be working on our favorite detectives so look for a comeback from me very soon.

Also, I'm offering "Gloria Victis" out to anyone who'd like to take over in completing it for me. I admit it, I've been stuck after delivering B's lovely, disgusting, horrible death. The aftermath completely eludes me (get it? Invader Zim fans out there? hmmm?) so as long as you promise to keep it happy you can fix/finish it to your liking.

And while I'm whoring myself out I'd like to offer myself out for commision ficcies. Bandfic or Death Note- maybe even some Saiyuki if anyone knows/likes those wonderful guys. I know bandfic isn't allowed on here but I can send privately message/link to livejournal/whateff. The bands I'll write are mainly Brand New (look 'em up if you don't know them, they're fucking awesome), Taking Back Sunday (prefer early years, I have harsh FEELINGS about the upcoming album- the new/old lineup...lol), and MCR- the early years 'cause that's when the boys were the smexiest and I hate the new songs.

I won't write dirty stuff about Fred Mascherino, Bob Bryar, Eddie Reyes, Mark O'Connell, or Raye Toro...just 'cause I personally don't dig it. A passing mention I'd do but specifics ain't happenin'. Just 'cause I don't dig it, nothing personal.

Might even consider doing some Half-Life stuff since I've played the shit outta it in the past few months.;) Awesome game if you haven't checked it out- here's lookin' at you Portal fans it's on the Orange Box WHY HAVEN'T YOU CHECKED IT OUT?

Extra points for vampire fans- they'll probably get the first finished commisions- MY VAMPIRES DO NOT SPARKLE.

Love all of you who've sent me all the love. Hope to hear from some of you soon!


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